Heroes Never Bark, Beg, Or Bite
by InsomniacFlaaffy
Summary: Sequel to A Junkyard Dog. Scrappup is given to Overwatch to save the child's life and for a more stable lifestyle. The sudden change in environment and all these strangers doesn't bode well with Scrappup. Overwatch will have their work cut out for them dealing with a feral kid. ON HIATUS
1. Have Mercy

_Patient: Morgan Shea, Middle name withheld or unknown, Alias: Scrappup. Approximately eight years of age. Date of birth unknown. Location of birth is an unknown city or town in Australia. Sex: Female. Weight: 25.8 kg. Height: 128. 2 cm. Child is of African/Australian nationality. Both parents are deceased. Legal guardian(s) are Jamison Fawkes and Mako Rutledge. Both have forfeited the child to Overwatch for extensive medical treatment. Monthly payments are to be collected to pay for the child's surgery, room, and board._

Doctor Angela Ziegler reread the information typed in light blue text on the blue holotablet she was holding in her right hand. The familiar of Watchpoint Gibraltar's infirmary surrounded her. The place over time strangely brought comfort to Angela. It was like her second home while it brought stress to other. Perhaps it was because medicine was both work and hobby. Healing the sick and injured was her entire life. It was who she was.

She crossed her left leg over her right leg and she shifted her body in the chair she sat in. The doctor sat close by one of the clean infirmary beds, the first one in the row of beds. Her eyes pulled away from the holotablet and held them on the bed in front of her. It was occupied by a person, a sleeping child to be exact. The blanket was pulled up to the child's chest, her arms rested on her sides, and several pillows angled her head in a 180 degree angle. Her chest rose and fell with each steady breath she took. Tubes connected the IV bags were attached to the child's arm, supplying her with much needed water and nutrients.

This was her newest patient whose information she was reading. The child was barely conscious when she first met her, fighting her hardest to stay alive. The doctor diagnosed her with advanced radiation poisoning and had to perform surgery to replace the child's damaged organs. It was a long and grueling process, replacing one of her kidneys, parts of her liver, sections of her stomach and intestines with synthetic materials. In the end, Angela was successful with the operation.

Angela only came to the infirmary to check Morgan's vitals for the night yet found herself reviewing Morgan's file again. She knew of the situation in Australia was bad, but she couldn't imagine the severity of it all. The child sleeping peacefully in her bed was an innocent byproduct of the event. Though Angela was used to seeing victims of wars on a daily basis, the sight of children caught in the middle of conflict made her heart ache.

Morgan's file was small compared to files of other patients she had in the past. Quite a bit of information was withheld or omitted completely due to Mister Fawkes' lack of knowledge of the child. How could he not know a child's personal information when she was in his care for more than a year? Angela shook her head in disapproval. Mister Fawkes appeared to not be able to keep his thoughts in order when he spoke to her.

 _The child has been known to show feral tendencies, according to Mister Fawkes._ One sentence said. _Her missing left leg was caused by an accidental explosion by Mister Fawkes himself. He made it very apparent that it was simply an accident. Improved prosthetics is in consideration for the child._

Angela returned her sight on the child, pushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. If that was so, she would have to conduct a mental evaluation test along with a routine physical and blood work.

The file went on to list Morgan's interests and dislikes since Mister Fawkes insisted that she should write them down. Angela skimmed over the information, tucking another hair strand from out of her face. The time she spent on Morgan's surgery without assistance went well into the wee hours of the night. Tiredness began to creep up on the doctor. Her eyes started to become heavy and her muscles screamed for the sweet embrace of her bed. She felt herself start to slip underneath the blanket of sleep.

"Angela?"

A woman's voice tore her from the clutches of her exhaustion and the doctor forced her eyes open. It was Lena. She was standing at the end of the child's bed. While the younger woman's body faced her, she couldn't tell if she was looking at her due to the infirmary's emergency lights. The shadows on Lena's face made her appear more menacing than she actually was.

"Lena?" Angela said, caught off guard at the sudden appearance of her friend and fellow colleague. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be asleep?" She sat up straight in her seat.

Lena chuckled, "I should be asking the same question to you, love. You should be asleep too. With all that work you've done today, I woulda wanted to pass out where I stood if I was in your shoes."

"I'm just checking Morgan's vitals," the doctor replied as she closed the tablet and placed the small, USB driver sized object in the pocket of her lab coat. "You can never be too careful. I don't want something to happen due to an error on my part."

"You're worried about her, aren't you?"

How could she not be? Though she was certainly confident of her medical skills, Morgan's sized and the radiation poisoning complicated things. Her body might not be able to heal properly or her body may reject their synthetic organs. There was always a one percent chance of error or failure she had to account for. A small chance for her tiny body to suddenly stop working.

Angela sighed. Lena was right, she was overthinking the whole situation. The chair squeaked a little as she got to her feet and tucked Morgan in. She remembered fondly of her own mother tucking her in bed when she was a little girl.

Lena linked her arm around the doctor's, pulling her away from the sleeping child's bed. "Come on, Angela." Lena whined playfully. "She'll be fine, I promise. Let me make you some tea to calm your nerves."

Angela tried to object but she knew Lena was persistent. She looked back at Morgan as she was dragged out of the infirmary. The doctor maintained eye contact with the child through the window in the door until she was pulled away.

Green was the grass moving like waves in the warm breeze. Blue was the endless sky above the world. White were the fluffy clouds that slowly drifted by. You closed your eyes and fell backwards into the grass with a laugh. Opening your eyes, you stared up at the sky and watched the clouds go by. Everything was at peace, the way it should be. You wondered where Rat and Hog were at. They would like seeing the beautiful view.

A shadow casted over you and a woman giggled, "There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"

You sat up and looked behind you. You gasped as you realized who it was. It was your mother, alive and smiling! Joy overflowed from your body and you leapt into her open arms, nuzzling your face against hers. Oh, how you missed her so much. Her smile, her smell, her touch; all of it you missed dearly. "Ma!" You cried out happily. "Ma, Ma!"

"Your father set us up a lovely picnic," She told you as she sat you on your two feet. Surprisingly, you still had your left leg. As if you never met Rat in the first place. "Come on, sweetie!" Ma shouted and ran off ahead.

You galloped after her. Your mother's white sundress fluttered behind her and she used a hand to keep her sunhat on her head as she climbed up a hill. At the top of the hill, there was a large tree rooted to the ground and your father sat beneath it. He gave you and your mother a friendly wave.

"There you two lovely ladies are!" He said and motioned at the grass in front of him. "I already have everything set up and ready for us!" Before your father, on a white blanket, was a meal fit for a family of three. There were sandwiches, cakes, and many kinds of fruit. All of it were set on clean, white plates and fancy checkered pattern napkins. It all looked very tasty. "Well, don't just stand there," Your father said. "Come on, sit down, and dig in!"

With a nod, you took a seat in front of your father and crossed your legs. Your mother folded her legs to the side and occupied the space to your left. Immediately, your little hands grabbed for a slice of strawberry cheesecake and crammed it into your open mouth. Its taste was deliciously sweet; it had been a long time since you had anything that sweet.

Your mother laughed and she wiped away the bit of cake from the corner of your mouth with her thumb. You grinned up at her and she caressed the side of your face with her hand. Her almond shaped blue eyes looked down upon you, full of warmth and adoration.

"It's time to wake up, sweetheart." Ma said but her mouth moved slower than the words coming out and echoed, "Wake up, Morgan. It's time to wake up."

Wake up? You didn't understand what Ma was saying. Suddenly, the ground beneath you disappeared into a black hole, slowly sucking you into its darkness. Wind whipped through your hair as you scrambled to hold onto the blanket. Your parents seemed farther away now, unaffected by the hole pulling you in.

"Ma! Pa!" You shouted and clutched the fabric tight in your hands.

"It's time to wake up. You need to wake up." Both of your parents chanted.

The blanket tore from the weight and you fell, swallowed up by the hole. "Wake up, Morgan. It's time to wake up…" You heard Ma and Pa tell you from the darkness. " _You need to wake up…_ "

Blood pressure was normal, body temperature was normal, and her pulse was fine. Morning came to Watchpoint Gibraltar. Sunlight peeked through the white curtains of the infirmary's open windows. They waved in the gentle summer breeze, carrying the scent of salt from the nearby seaside. Angela slept well through the night and was relieved that Morgan made through the night also when she arrived to the infirmary. Now that the margin of error was basically nonexistent and she had nothing to worry about anymore. She could breathe a bit easier now.

Angela checked Morgan's vitals for today, tapping away at the tablet she held in her hands. She removed her eyes off the data and looked down at the still sleeping child. The anesthesia would be wearing off soon, it was a matter of time. She prepared tests for when Morgan awakened; nothing too difficult, just some routine check-ups. The doctor changed the IV bags hanging from the metal stands by the bedside with new, fuller clear bags.

A twitch at the corner of Angela's eye made her stop what she was doing and put her full, undivided attention on Morgan. Her little fingers on her left hand curled ever so slightly, gripping the blanket that covered her body. A tiny moan passed through her dry lips and she stirred in her bed. Angela stood by patiently in silence, putting her tablet away and folding her hands on top of one another. The child's eyelids fluttered before they cracked open and focused on the ceiling above.

"Good morning, Morgan." Angela greeted in her friendliest voice. "Did you sleep well? How are you feeling?"

She did not answer her question. Her head turned and her blue eyes stared at her, confusion and tiredness still visible in them. She scrunched up her face and muttered, "Ma?" under her breath.

Angela frowned and replied, "No dear, I am not your mother…" The child's word caused her heart to ache once more. She recalled Mister Fawkes discussing the tragic event of the death of Morgan's parents. Gang violence, he said. She heard that Morgan had to resort to cannibalizing her own father for survival. It was something a child never ever should have to deal or suffer through. The doctor had to approach this with caution. "My name is Doctor Angela Ziegler." She said. "You are at Watchpoint Gibraltar in Overwatch's care."

"Ma," The child repeated, reaching out for the doctor as she tried to get out of the bed. "Mama, Ma, Ma…"

"You can't get up just yet," said Angela, trying to push her back down in the bed. "You have to stay in bed for now."

But Morgan was much stronger than she appeared. She began to thrash about against the bed and the doctor's hands. The child started to scream, her shrill shrieks vibrated in Angela's ears as she attempted to restrain Morgan. Even though she was just a child, Morgan was fighting back fiercely. She needed help.

"I could use some assistance!" Angela shouted to the open infirmary door. She prayed that someone, anyone, could hear her.

Thankfully, someone did hear her plead. It was Reinhardt. The massive man stood in the doorway with a puzzled look on his face. "Angela?" he asked. His good eye stared at the situation before him.

Before Reinhardt could ask what the problem was, Angela ordered in the heat of it all, "Hold her down for me!" and ran off to get something that would calm the child. In a white box on a table nearby, she took out a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. The syringe's needle poked the vial's top and she pulled back on the stopper, filling the syringe with a specific amount of the liquid.

Reinhardt held Morgan down by her shoulders. He had no trouble with keeping her still unlike Angela did, as the child kicked her legs and attempted to flail her arms. Angela didn't want to resort to sedatives but she had no choice. The needle punctured the IV tube and she pushed down on the stopper. The sedative trickled down the clear tube, disappearing into Morgan's arm. It had an immediate effect on the child, causing her to become relax and sink into the bed. Reinhardt released the child's shoulders slowly, still holding out his hands just in case of sudden movement.

"Ma…" Morgan mumbled and reached out a hand to Doctor Angela before fading away back to sleep again.

Angela could only sigh loudly as the ordeal soon was over. She discarded the syringe into the orange biohazard waste bin and returned to the man's side. "Thank you for your help, Reinhardt. I did not expect her to be that strong."

"It was nothing, Angela," Reinhardt commented as he rested a large hand on her back. "I couldn't let you struggle by yourself! This child could have overpowered you! How did this happen?"

"She woke up as normal," the doctor explained. "But she thought I was her deceased mother and that is when things got out of hand."

"That is a saddening predicament…" Reinhardt said in a whisper, looking down at the girl. He straightened himself out and said in his usual, booming voice, "Let me know if you need anything else, Angela!" then left the room.

She was by her lonesome again, alone with the sleeping child. Angela smoothed the blankets out and tucked Morgan in as she did last night. The chair nearby the bed welcomed her, inviting her over. With a brush of her skirt under her thighs, she took a seat. Her eyes wandered to an object by her heeled foot. It was an old bag, stashed in the large space under the girl's bed. The bag belonged to Morgan; her personal effects left by Mister Fawkes and Mister Rutledge. She couldn't help but to feel…curious as to what was in the bag. Her fingers clasped the zipper, pulled it back, and folded the flap out of the way.

What piqued her interest out of all the items in the bag was a red book. She took it out but it wasn't a book as she presumed, but a photo album. The cover that surrounded the album was made up of red leather, dotted with dirt and scratches. Her hand brushed across the surface and she looked back at Morgan. It wasn't right to go snooping in other people's belongings but Angela wanted a better understanding of Morgan. A better grasp of her backstory and how she functioned.

Angela opened the album. The plastic inside of it crinkled from the movement.

The first photo in the album was of a woman lying in bed, drenched in sweat with a baby cradled in her arms. _Welcome to the world, baby Morgan_ , said the caption on the bottom of the photo. Next to it was another picture of the woman and the child. The woman was cleaned up in the picture, smiling bright at the person holding the camera. The doctor saw how Morgan could have confused her for her late mother. The resemblance was a bit uncanny except for the cluster of freckles going across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

A flip of the page and more photos awaited for her. There were many pictures of young Morgan that filled the pages. At least she knew that the child's parents loved her so much to document everything she did. A particular picture of Morgan and her parents made Angela smile. Her mother and father stood together as they held Morgan between them. In little Morgan's hands was a potted plant blooming with a large white flower. The flower was so big that it blocked most of Morgan's face _. First Non-Irradiated Plant_ ; the caption said. Made her wonder what they were planning. Mister Fawkes never mentioned what they did for a living. Perhaps she could ask Morgan at a later date.

The next page had only one thing under the plastic covering: a handwritten note. It was written in cursive penmanship, more than likely written by her mother. It read:

 _My dearest Morgan,_

 _By the time you're old enough to find and read this note, your father and I may not be here anymore. Some bad people don't like what we do. It's okay, dear. That's how life is, sometimes. If it comes to that, your father and I want you to leave the country by any means. The world is a big and beautiful place, Morgan. I want you to see it for all its worth. New places and different people; I want you to see everything. I know you can do it. Your father and I are proud of you no matter what kind of person you become. We love you so much. Keep us in your heart and be kind to others._

Angela looked up at the young girl. It was a good choice that she was in the hands of Overwatch. The organization did open up new paths for anyone with to join and work for a good cause. She would help this child see what the world had in store, even though she knew there would be many challenges ahead of her. Her parents' last wish would be fulfilled if Angela had anything to say about it. The doctor was determined.

The photo album returned to its place in the bag, the bag zipped shut, and pushed back in place under the bed.

She would try again with social interaction when Morgan awakened later. Angela hoped things would go more smoothly the next time.


	2. Escape

It was morning of the next day. Angela was getting used to seeing Morgan's bedside as many times as she sat herself in that chair. She had another tablet in her hand and a stylus in the other hand. Morgan was awake again and much calmer than before, most likely due to the sedative. The child was sitting up in her bed, her eyes locked on the wall in front of her. She pulled at the collar of her hospital gown uncomfortably.

"Good afternoon, Morgan." Angela greeted. "How are you feeling?" Her body stiffened, readying herself for a repeat of yesterday.

There was a pause. The child's head turned slowly towards the doctor. Her eyes focused on Angela but she did not say a word. She kneaded the blanket between her tiny fingers, causing it to wrinkle.

"Do you know where you are?" The doctor asked. "Do you know who I am?"

Morgan did not answer the question. Instead, she asked her own question. "Where's Rat and Hog?" she asked as she blinked slowly.

Angela straightened herself in the chair. She wasn't expecting that. "Mister Fawkes and Mister Rutledge?" she said. "They aren't here, Morgan. They left you in the hands of Overwatch to assure you got the proper care."

She went silent and blinked again.

"Morgan?" Angela said, reaching out a hand to the child.

A tiny growl rumbled from the child and her teeth snapped at the woman's fingers. Angela managed to pull her hand away just in time before she was bitten.

"Where's Rat and Hog?!" she shouted, demanded, as she pounded her fists against the mattress.

"I told you, Morgan. They are not here."

"Scrappup!" Morgan barked. "I'm Scrappup! You no say me name. Only Hog say me name!"

"Okay," If she wanted answers, she had to play by Morgan's rules. "Scrappup…how are feeling?"

Scrappup eyed the doctor several times and replied with a gruff "Hungry…" crossing her arms over her chest.

Now, she was getting somewhere. It was better than being yelled at. Angela smiled, swiveled her chair away from the child, and rolled up to her desk. "Well, you woke up just at the right time then." She said as she set a several bowls on a tray mounted on wheels. "You can't eat solid foods just yet. I provided you with some soup and soft foods until your stomach heals." When Angela turned back around, if she was holding the bowls, it would shattered on the floor by now.

The bed was empty and the blankets had been pushed to the floor on the other side. What shocked Angela was the state of the IV tubes. The plastic was chewed right through, causing water to drip slowly on the tile floor. She left the infirmary door open when she came in and immediately regretted her decision in doing so. Morgan slipped so silently under her nose and now was wandering through Gibraltar. How did she escape that fast? She couldn't have faced away from Morgan for less than two or three minutes. How could she –? No, Angela quickly stopped her train of thought right there and pushed the tray off to the side. Now wasn't the time to ask pointless questions. She had to find this child.

After she cleaned up the leaking IV tubes, Angela went over to her computer desk. Sensing the doctor's presence nearby, Athena appeared on the monitor in an instance.

"Is there a problem, Doctor Ziegler?" Overwatch's artificial intelligence asked.

"Athena, can you contact Winston and the others? Tell them to come to the infirmary and that the matter is urgent."

"Certainly, doctor." Athena agreed then disappeared from her computer.

Angela squeezed the bridge of her nose between her fingers and sighed. It passed through her lips, heavy and full of annoyance. It hadn't even been a few days she had the child in her possession and Morgan was missing. This was going to be much difficult than she envisioned caring for this child would be.

 _Where were Rat and Hog?_ You asked yourself as you limped through the halls of this mysterious place. The needles in your arms itched and the gown felt tight around your neck. That fake Ma that you woke up next to, she was telling you lies. Trying to confuse you and make you lower your guard. You wouldn't let her twist your brain with her words. She was hiding Rat and Hog from you in this big building. It was your time to find them, free them, and blow this place up as you made your grand escape. You would be their hero. A smile grew on your face at the thought. Endless praise from Rat and Hog, you could almost hear their voices and feel their rough hands pat your head.

There was no time to daydream though. You had to find them, quick!

The scent of petrol, sweat, and ash; that was what you were searching for in these halls. You pressed your nose to the cool tile floor, inhaling deep the smells of your new surroundings. The floor made your nose itch and burn. It smelt too clean. You sat up and rubbed your nose feverishly. You hated that smell, the burning smell of floor cleaners. It reminded you of the bank you, Rat, and Hog robbed months ago. They used the same chemicals on their floors. Fond memories.

Your nose returned to the floor and you resumed your search without a second thought. At times, your head bumped into walls, doors, or even pipes that stuck out from the floor. It happened when you were focused on scents. You let the world melt away around you as your nose led the way. That's when you nose caught it; the comforting scent of Rat and Hog. You sniffed hard at the particular spot on the floor and pawed at it, picking up the trail.

The trail was stale, about a few days old now, but it was better than no trail at all. To your eyes, the trail was the color orange. It hung low to the floor like mist and followed a straight line down the hall. You hobbled after the scent trail as fast as you could go. Didn't have time to grab your prosthetic so you were down a leg.

" _Hog, Rat, me save you!_ " You declared in your head as you chased after their smell.

"Thank you all for coming." Angela addressed the group of people that now occupied her infirmary. Winston, Lena, Reinhardt, and Torbjörn stood doctor; a fraction of what Overwatch used to be. Sometimes, she wondered what the other ex-members were up to. She hoped they weren't going out and getting themselves injured. She had to force herself to not dwell on past memories and focus on more pressing matters. "Sorry for pulling you away from your activities."

"What's wrong, doctor?" The first to speak was Winston. She heard the large amount of concern in his deep voice. "Athena said it was urgent."

Angela nodded, "She was correct." Then she smiled a nervous grin at the four and chuckled, "It seems that I have lost my patient…"

"You lost your patient…?" Winston repeated her words in disbelief, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Wasn't the little one bedridden?" Reinhardt commented.

"How did you managed to do that?" Torbjörn asked. The man placed his hands on his hips and remarked, "The kid is about as tall as I am!"

The doctor's eyebrows furrowed and she frowned. Angela knew how silly it sounded to lose a patient. She did not need the others to poke at the bruise to her ego she had.

Lena, who was seated in the computer chair, piped in. "Don't be too harsh on the doc, guys." She spun around a few times then came to a stop and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. "Angela's been working hard. It could have happened to anyone."

"Plus," Angela added. "Morgan is…craftier than she appears. You know what type of environment she came from. She even chewed right through her IV tubing."

"Then we must find her quickly!" Winston exclaimed. "Who knows what else she might chew on. She may electrocute herself!"

"Or worse: escape Gibraltar entirely." Angela said.

"Then why are we standing around talking?" replied Torbjörn.

"Yes!" Reinhardt bellowed. "The only way we can find the child is with action! I will check the armory!"

Lena's arm shot up into the air. "I call the mess hall and commons room!"

"I will check the workshop," Torbjörn said. "Can't let a little kiddie burning themselves on my forge."

And I will check my lab and ask Athena to monitor the cameras for any activity outside the watchpoint." Said Winston.

"Thank you," Angela couldn't be happier with everyone's cooperation. "I really can't thank you enough. And be careful, Morgan tends to bite."

Lena leapt up from her seat and shouted, "Let's go Overwatch! We have a kid to find!" Her accelerator whirred to life and the young woman dashed out of the room.

Everyone else followed after her, though not as fast. This left Angela by her herself with her thoughts. It would help the cause if she went searching also. The only places no one was checking were the loading bay, the barracks, and the washroom. Perhaps she would check there? She wouldn't know what to do if she found Morgan though. That problem would be dealt with when she got there.

"Rat? Hog?" You called out. The scent trail led you to a large room, it was massive. Tables lined a wall to your left, covered in tools and metal with a small stool in front of it. There were blue and white papers attached to a board on the wall over the tables. Drawings and writing decorated the papers, all of it you didn't understand. It kind of looked like Rat's drawings for his mines. Maybe it was plans for explosives?

You sniffed at the hard concrete floor. It reeked of petrol, Rat and Hog had to be here somewhere. You raised your head up and leapt nearly ten feet off the ground out of fright. Standing tall in front of you was a gray metal giant, staring down at you through a yellow slit in its helmet. It was bigger than Hog was! You went on the defensive, growling and keeping your body low. Couldn't let this thing scare you. You were tough as nails.

You barked at the giant, bouncing around on your single foot before you tipped over and fell on your back. Your eyes locked on the metal giant. It hadn't reacted to your barking or you even being there. Confused, you got up and edged closer to the giant. Why was it not moving? With a hand raised, you batted at its foot. Your fingernails made a hollow tap against the dented surface.

There was no response.

You tilted your head and noticed the red steel beams surrounding the giant. Oh, it hit you all of a sudden. It wasn't a metal giant, it was a big metal suit! Like armor or something like that. You relaxed. The danger was gone. You could go back to looking for Rat and Hog. The sound of footsteps caused you to tense up once more. Someone was coming. You couldn't let anyone find you. Quickly, you stashed yourself behind the metal suit and kept quiet. Your fingers curled around the suit's thigh and you poked one eye out of cover. You hoped it wasn't fake Ma.

To your relief, it wasn't fake Ma but a man. A very short man, in fact. He had to be as tall as you were. He was pudgy, bald, and had a blond beard tied up and two braids. You reached up and patted your head. Would braids look good in your hair? The man wore a stern look on his face. Immediately you didn't care for him. He rubbed you the wrong way like fake Ma did. Just another stranger in the way of you finding Rat and Hog. You were going to call him Baldy.

You watched Baldy bent over and look under a table then you heard him mumble something. He had to be looking for you, there was no doubt about it. Well, you wouldn't let that happen if you had anything to say about that. When you moved your foot ever so slightly, it bumped against a toolbox on the floor and a can fell over. You froze and Baldy looked in your direction. Crap, you saw him walking towards. If you didn't make a break for it now, he would catch you. You were faster than him, you could make it to safety. Taking a deep breath in, you flexed your muscles and pounced out of hiding.

Everything was quiet in the workshop when Torbjörn entered the garage-like room. Nothing appeared out of place when he came up to his work areas. The several lamps hanging above the tables were still switched on. Scrap metal and tools sitting on the wooden tables' surfaces were where he left them. Good, he didn't like anyone touching his things. He pushed his stool to the side and checked in the dark shadows under the table for the kid. His search brought him no results, no child in sight. Torbjörn straightened his back out and his eyes made a full sweep of the workshop. Where was this kid? She could only get far with just one leg.

 _Clang!_ An oil can fell off from on top of a toolbox and rolled out from behind Reinhardt's Crusader armor. Torbjörn smirked and headed towards the armor. He should have known a child would hide behind something as big as that.

"Alright, come on out." Torbjörn called. "I know you're over there."

Not a second later, the child jumped out of hiding. She held her body close to the floor and turned her lips up in a snarl. There was a wild look to her eye, inhumane and angry.

Torbjörn held his hands out and took a step forward. He was sure the kid was going to make a run for it.

And make a run for it, she did. The child bolted ahead pass the older man but Torbjörn wasn't going to let her get away that easily. He snagged Morgan by the hospital gown and was thrown to the ground by the force alone. She dragged Torbjörn several feet and then collapsed to the side by the inbalance of weight. Morgan attempted to get back up and escape but Torbjörn couldn't let that happen.

He firmly pressed his hands against her back and held her in place. The workshop filled with the child's screams and she thrashed about, kicking her leg and flailing her arms in a circular motion. It was difficult to keep her down. He grunted with each violent jerk she made. No wonder Angela had a hard time handling this particular patient. She was a damn good fighter with plenty of energy. Strangely, Torbjörn admired that. That energy could do many things if put to good use.

"Torbjörn, my friend!" He heard Reinhardt call out for him. "Are you in there?"

"Of course I am!" Torbjörn shouted over Morgan's shrieking. "Where else would I be with all this screaming?"

The large frame of Reinhardt came into his view as he entered the workshop. "You found the little one already!" Reinhardt exclaimed with joy. "Angela will be pleased."

"Not if she gets free again. Don't just stand there, help me!" Torbjörn snapped, struggling to keep a hold of the child.

Reinhardt lifted Morgan off the floor, holding her better than the smaller man could in his massive hands. Morgan stopped her screaming and turned her attention to her captor. She bit down on him. Her sharp teeth gnawed on Reinhardt's fingers and palms, leaving dents in the man's skin but never broke through. She kicked her leg at his abdomen but he did not flinch at the blow.

"She is a feisty one, isn't she?" Reinhardt said with a hardy laugh. "Overwatch could always use more feisty characters."

Torbjörn said nothing in response. Yes, they needed more people with a lot of steam but the kid was missing something. The solution came to him instantly. Discipline: that was what she need. Good old fashion hard work would do her good. He always thought about a successor to his craft. He could teach her what he knew, only if she was willing to learn. It probably would be best to run it by the doctor first before he started anything. Didn't want to break the poor girl after she got patched up. Torbjörn was the only one on the team who had dealt with children but a feral child was another story. Well it was better than being clueless, he supposed. Nothing would get done if he didn't try.


	3. All Alone

Morgan was still growling and chomping down on Reinhardt's hand when he and Torbjörn returned to the infirmary. The large, white, and sterile room was empty. Completely devoid of people, Angela was nowhere to be seen.

"Ah, Angela must be searching for the little one as well." Reinhardt concluded. "Let us find her and tell her the good news!"

Torbjörn couldn't keep his eyes off the kid as the two men traveled down the vacant halls of Gibraltar. He saw much untapped potential in the child. It made him feel a little…giddy, like when he set up a brand new shiny turret. The feeling was never foreign to him but it was rare for him to show it on the outside when it came to people. The kid interested him. He wondered how pliable this kid was. Her mind was like magma just waiting for him to sharpen and make stronger.

The child must have noticed him looking at her because she stopped biting Reinhardt and looked directly at Torbjörn. Their eyes met and they held the gaze for the longest time. In that moment, the inhuman glint in her eyes faded, replaced by what Torbjörn could guess was interest. He had seen the same exact look in his own children's eyes. He expected her to say something to him but she never did and continued biting the large man's muscular hand.

Torbjörn snorted and shook his head in disapproval. What a wild animal, he thought.

Winston's laboratory was in a state of disarray when the men entered. The scientist always had his workspace unorganized. He claimed many times to others that he was able to find everything he needed in the mess. But the large room was far from being just messy. It was like a hurricane came rampaging through the area. Papers and books were scattered across tables and thrown about on the floor. Jars of peanut butters laid in more than usual places like balancing on various computer monitors and sitting on beaker stands. Winston himself was on the upper level of the room. They saw his shadow passed by the glass window overhead and heard him muttering to himself.

"Winston!" Reinhardt called. "You can cease with your search, my friend! We found the child unharmed!"

Winston faced the two men, his amber eyes peered down at them. "Oh thank goodness." He sighed and came down the staircase. The scientist looked frazzled the closer he got to Reinhardt and Torbjörn. His glasses were slightly fogged from sweat and his black fur stuck out in odd angles over the collar of his orange shirt. He smoothed his fur down, wiped the lens of his glasses on his shirt, and regained his composure when he returned his glasses in place. Winston was quick to notice Morgan biting Reinhardt's hand and it made him frown. "Isn't she hurting you, Reinhardt?" he asked.

Reinhardt replied with a hearty laugh and said, "What, this? Her nibbles feel nothing more than flea bites!" He held out his hand and Morgan hung on to his palm by her teeth, still growling. She flailed and flopped about like a freshly caught fish on the hook.

With large, gentle hands, Winston grabbed Morgan's waist and he pull on her ever so slightly. She froze at the foreign touch and released Reinhardt's hand from her jaws. Immediately, Morgan began to flail once more, now in Winston's hands but not as wildly as before. Her boundless energy seemed to finally be running out and she settled in the scientist's grasp. Winston pushed some papers out the way and sat the child on the table when he was sure she wasn't going to make her escape. Caution didn't fade from him as he stepped away from her and joined Torbjörn and Reinhardt's side.

The child glared at the men while wearing a scowl on her face. Her eyes swept over them one by one judgingly. First Reinhardt, second Torbjörn, and then third Winston. She stuck her tongue out in their direction and turned her body away from them, uninterested. It made Torbjörn snort again. What a big attitude that kid had.

"Morgan, was it?" Winston spoke out through the quietness of the lab. "Why did you feel the need to escape the infirmary? I'm certain Doctor Ziegler was taking good care of you."

"I am Scrappup!" the child snapped. "No dumb mans say my name! I am Scrappup! Me tear you to pieces!"

"You're just all bark and no bite," Torbjörn commented.

His words caught Morgan's attention and she glared at the small bearded man. "Wanna see if real, Baldy?" she growled, teeth bared and fists balled up tight. "Me can take you!"

"No no no!" Winston stepped in, getting closer to the child. "No one is fighting anyone here! This is a non-fighting area!" He hadn't seen how close he had gotten to Morgan and she leapt into action. He jaws clamped down on Winston's hand, little teeth buried deep into black skin. With a shocked scream, Winston flung his arm in the air. Many occasions, the intensity of the scientist's strength would slip his mind and this would be one of those occasion. When he threw his arm up, Morgan went flying. The three men braced themselves to hear the loud noise of a body hitting the hard floor but it never came. And neither did Morgan. All of them looked around for the once again lost child.

Reinhardt raised his head and gasped, "Ah!" he pointed upwards. "There she is! Up there!"

Torbjörn and Winston's eyes followed Reinhardt's arm and they looked up also. Winston's jaw dropped at the sight.

From the large tire swing mounted to the ceiling, Morgan held on by her hands. She hauled her body up into the center on the tire then climbed up on top of the tire. Her leg and small hands wrapped tight around the heavy duty rope.

"Stupid men, Scrappup wins!" she laughed manically. The tire swung back and forth as the child threw her head back and cheered, "Me win, me win, me win!"

"Please get down from there!" Winston said and held out his arms to her. "Here, jump into my arms. I will catch you."

"Piss off, Gorilla man!"

All three of them recoiled at the child's vulgar language.

"Well we know where she gets her manners and…colorful vocabulary from." Torbjörn said.

"She got my species correct…" Winston muttered to himself.

"Come down, little one!" Reinhardt attempted to coax. "I promise we will bring you no harm!"

"Liar!" Morgan shouted back, pointing down at them. "You trap me, Rat, and Hog here! You evil!"

"Who, those brutes?" It was Torbjörn who answered the child's manic ramblings. "They aren't here. They left days ago. Left you here with us to raise you right. You got lots of learning ahead of you, kid."

Morgan's eyes searched Torbjörn's for something but it seemed she couldn't find what she was looking for. "Give me Rat and Hog, you drongos!" she demanded.

Angela and Lena rushed into the laboratory at the sound of all the commotion that went on. As soon as they entered, their heads upturned to the source of all the noise.

"Oh no…" Angela said, shaking her head. "Morgan, get down from there. You will hurt yourself!"

"How did she even get up there?" asked Lena, still looking up.

Winston replied, "I might have thrown her up there…"

Lena's eyes locked on Winston with both confusion and bewilderment.

"Not on purpose, Lena!"

"We have to get her down somehow," Angela stated.

"It is impossible, Angela." Reinhardt said, scratching the back of his neck. "We tried almost everything but the little one is unmoving."

"Except for getting her down by force," Torbjörn added.

"We are not forcing her down, Torbjörn." The doctor immediately rejected.

"Give me Rat and Hog!" Morgan chanted while she swung on the swing. "Give me Rat and Hog!"

Something within Winston's head sparked and ignited a mental wildfire. It spread until it transformed into something tangible: an idea. "If Morgan want Junkrat and Roadhog, why not contact the two men?" he suggested. "I gave them a communicator just in case they changed their minds on my offer. Perhaps hearing their voices will ease her nerves?"

"That is an excellent idea, Winston!" Angela exclaimed. "I'm not sure why I haven't thought of it before. Speaking to them will certainly cure her homesickness and bridge some kind of trust between her and us. Thank you."

Winston grinned a wide, toothy smile at her. "I'm happy to be of assistance, doctor."

Angela went right to work on Winston's idea. The sooner, the better. She had a plan to lead Morgan back to the infirmary with a child's greatest weakness: candy. Angela placed a few squares of chocolate underneath the tire swing on the floor and walked backwards, creating a trail with the candy. Though it was a little unsanitary, the enticing call of sweets was too much for the girl. She hopped down from the tire, using the equipment around her to safely get down, and landed with a slight tumble. The girl sniffed the chocolate then quickly shoved it in her mouth. Morgan followed the trail, popping the candy in her awaiting mouth with each step she took. Angela couldn't believe this plan was actually working. It was something straight out of a children's cartoon.

When Angela led Morgan to the open door of the infirmary, she waved the rest of the chocolate bar at the child and continued inside. Morgan had her eyes set on the candy; her eyes were lit up with sugary wonder. The doctor placed the chocolate bar on a bed and stepped away to close the door. Morgan promptly climbed up on the bed and snagged the chocolate. She stared at the reward in her hands, kicking her leg happily, then looked around the room. As she realized where she was, Morgan's smile morphed to a frown and she went bug-eyed.

"Hey!" she shouted, looking up at the doctor.

Angela covered her mouth with her hand to hide her laughter.

Dammit! You always knew your love for sweets would be your downfall! Fake Ma led you all the way back to the white room with chocolate. How dare she trick you! You took an angry bite out of the chocolate and crossed your arms in a huff. The chocolate didn't even taste that good.

Fake Ma held one of your shoulders in each of her hands and looked at you directly in the eye. Though her touch was soft and gentle, you did not like her touching you. You tried to shrug her off but she didn't let go of you.

"I'm sorry, Mor –er, Scrappup." She said. "I did not mean to trick you."

Yeah right, lady. You stuck your tongue out at her.

"Please," Fake Ma pleaded to you. "We are not here to hurt you. We are here to take care of you. So please, cooperate with us. That's all I ask of you."

That look in Fake Ma's eye, it made your stomach twist up in tight knots like rope. You couldn't keep eye contact with her, she looked too much like your own Ma. With those dumb thin lips and those blue eyes. You had to look down at your hands in your lap now while you fiddled with the chocolate bar's wrapper. "Fine," you mumbled. "Me give up. You win."

A smile appeared on Fake Ma's face and she nodded. "Thank you, Scrappup."

Yeah, whatever. It was what the lady wanted to hear. The quicker she was done, the faster you could go and look for Rat and Hog again.

Fake Ma let go of your shoulders and brought over a tray full of shiny tools over to you. Your body went stiff; all of those tools you never seen before in your life. You never saw Rat or Hog use those kinds of tools. What was she planning on doing to you?

She took out the itchy needles from your left arm and hand and threw them in the trash. From the tray, she grabbed a small hammer-like tool and tapped it against your only functioning knee. Your leg kicked out all on its own, kicking the hammer out of the woman's hand. It fell to the floor with a clatter and she laughed.

"Excellent reflexes," she commented, returning the hammer to the tray. She wrote something down on those fancy see-through tablets you seen before. "Good, good…"

You watched her grab another tool, turned on a white light built in it, and she stuck it in your ear without warning. You squirmed a little. It felt cold and strange as she looked in each of your ears. You did not like that at all.

"Interesting," she said then repeated the same action with your nose, mouth, and eyes. She switched the little plastic tip on the tool every time she looked at a different part of your body.

You promised to work with Fake Ma but all this poking and messing with your body, you hated that. You never had to do any of this with Rat or Hog.

Goosebumps formed on your skin when she pressed a weird object to your chest underneath the light blue gown you wore. It was circular, cold, and was attached to the woman's ears. Was she listening for something inside you? She removed it from your chest then placed it on your back. You shivered again as it touched your skin again.

"Take a deep breath for me, please." Fake Ma asked you.'

You did as you were told. Slowly, you inhaled as deep as your lungs could handle from your nose and then exhaled from your mouth.

"Good job," she said as she gave you a pat on the head. Praise, you felt your heart swell when she said that. Her tools were returned to the tray and she pushed it away from your bed. From beneath your bed, the blonde haired woman produced as set of folded clothes you were familiar with and your prosthetic leg sitting on top. You snatched it all from her. She could touch you for now but you never said she could lay hands on your things. She had no right to.

He fingers curled around a white curtain attached to the ceiling by metal hooks. "Let me give you some privacy." She said then pulled the curtain to the right, dividing the area between you and her.

Privacy; the word repeated in your head as you held the white short sleeved t-shirt and pulled it over your head. Privacy was something you knew the concept of but never practiced it in Rat and Hog's care. You slept with them, ate with them, and even bathe with them. Nothing was hidden between you and the older men. They respected you and you respected them. Yes, there were questions here and there but you usually kept them to yourself or asked Hog. Questions were kept to a minimum though; you learned to follow with whatever Rat and Hog did.

You pulled up the beige cargo shorts to your waist and fitted the Junker made prosthetic on your left leg. The metal of the fake leg made a small click against the tile floor when you slid off the bed. It still held together after many heists, miles of running, and tons of abuse. Rat built your leg strong and to last long. How you missed hearing his voice and seeing his smile.

"Morgan? I mean Scrappup," You heard Fake Ma say behind the curtain. "Are you finished getting dress? I would like to show you something."

You perked up at the woman's words. She wanted to show you something? Like what? You poked your head out around the curtain and saw the woman waiting for you. She pushed back the curtain to its original position, leaving you out in the open of the wide room. You stepped back a little in shock from the sudden change, bumping your back into the side of the bed. She leaned forward to you, holding out a delicate hand and wearing a gentle smile on her face.

With your guard up higher than a stone wall, your own hand slipped into hers. Her eyes seemed to light up and her smile grew wider at your gesture. You eyed her suspiciously. She already proved herself not to be trusted. If she tried anything funny again, you were leaving.

Holding on to your hand with the gentleness of a feather, she led you to a black chair on wheels. The chair sat in front of a table mounted to the wall. Some sleek black rectangles, three in total, were set up on the table. You remembered asking Hog what those things were in the past. He called it a computer, it was a piece of technology.

"Com-put-ter?" You pronounced the word to yourself aloud.

"Yes, this is a computer." Fake Ma replied with a nod. Her hand left yours and both her hands went underneath your armpits. She lifted you up, seated you in the chair, and swiveled it to the multiple screens. "Have you seen a computer before?"

"Uh."

"I will take that grunt as a yes," she said then motioned a hand to the screens. "I would like to introduce you to Athena, Overwatch's artificial intelligence. She is akin to…a really smart machine. Athena can do many things."

"Hello Scrappup," Another woman's voice greeted you. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Puzzled, you searched for the source of the new woman's voice. It sounded like a metal man's voice than a real human being. You then focused your sight on the middle monitor, which wasn't just a blank black screen. There was a large letter A in the color of blue on the black background. More letter in white followed forming a word underneath the single letter. There was an A, T, H, E, N, and lastly, another A. You sounded the word out. "A-Thee-Na?" You asked, awaiting confirmation if it was either right or wrong.

"Your pronunciation needs some improvement," the robotic lady responded. "May I suggest English lessons for the child, Doctor Ziegler?"

Perhaps another time, Athena." Fake Ma answered. "I need you to contact Mister Rutledge, if you may."

"Certainly, doctor. Please stand by."

The noise that came out of the speakers sounded like a phone ringing. You waited for something to happen on the screen. Who was Fake Ma asking the robot lady to call? Was it a friend of hers?

Someone picked up on the other line and who answered made you gasp in shock.

There was a cough and a wheeze before the person said a single word. "Yeah?" That familiar voice that vibrated you to the core. The voice that brought back the fondest of memories and comfort. The owner of the deep, bassy voice whom you loved and cherished so much. You couldn't believe it.

"That's not the proper way to answer a phone, Mister Rutledge." The woman scolded.

You suddenly hopped up on the chair and slapped your hands down on the table. The cup of pens and pencils nearby rattled when you did so.

"Hog!" You blurted out happily, unable to contain yourself. "Hog, Hog, Hog!" You began to bark at the screen and bounced with joy.

"Hey Morgan," Hog greeted in his usual low, monotone rumbling. "Feeling better?"

"Uh!" you replied.

Fake Ma placed a hand on your head and gave it another rub. "Surgery went well and Morgan made a speedy recovery." She explained. "But she has been unable to adjust to the change in living environment. I thought it would be wise to call you and Mister Fawkes so she could hear your voices."

They really weren't here, you managed to piece together from the incoming call. All these strangers weren't lying or hiding Rat and Hog from you. They really weren't here. The thought made you sit back down and wrap your arms around your body as you frowned.

Hog only responded with a grunt, per usual. You learned during your time with Hog that he was a round man with few words. His presence is what mattered to you the most.

"Is that Scrappy?" You heard another familiar voice in the background which reignited your excitement. You rocked your body side to side with glee. There was some shuffling and muffled talking on the other side. "'Ey, Scrappup! How are 'em Overwatch people treatin' ya?" The person talking had control of the phone now. He was talking a mile a minute. "You eatin' well? Bet yer bored outta yer lil mind since you can't have any fun. With all their rules and regulations. Bunch a wet blankets, if you ask me."

"Rat!" You shouted and stood again. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. His voice, you missed hearing his shill voice. You sniffled loudly, rubbed your eyes, and smiled. "R-Rat."

"Aww, don't start with the waterworks now," Rat muttered. He must have heard your sniffling. "Yer gonna make me cry."

You had to tell him, before the phone call ended. Tell him how you didn't like being around these complete strangers. "Me wanna go home!" You shouted at the screen. The tears overflowed from their containment and streamed down your cheeks. "Me hate it here! Me wanna be with you and Hog! Me miss you and Hog…"

It was quiet, too quiet. You waited. Waited for Rat to say _'Yeah, you belong with us! Let's get you back home!'_ Your toes curled over the edge of the chair and you gripped the table in anticipation.

"You can't come back…"

Your eyes went big. You weren't sure if you heard him right. Maybe the call messed up right when Rat spoke. Yeah, that had to be it. "W-wot?" Your voice cracked as you spoke.

"You heard me, kid." Rat's voice was dark and scary now. It made you feel uncomfortable. "I know ain't deaf. You can't come back. We don't want ya with us anymore."

Did you do or say something wrong to make Rat mad at you? "Please…me be good. Me sorry Rat." You begged as you pressed your hands on the screen. "Me be good. Me wanna go home…"

"Me and Hoggie don't want ya anymore!" He yelled. It caused you shrink away down in the chair. "We don't want some dumb kid weighin' us down! Shoulda just let you die when I blew yer leg off…"

"B-but…" you stammered, trying to understand Rat's words. "Me a Junker. You say so. We stay 'gether."

Rat laughed at your reply. It was a cackle, the same way he laughed at those pig headed cops. "You, a Junker? Yer a shit jokester, kid. Yer not a Junker. Yer just some junkyard dog I picked up out of the trash. We're better off without you. Piss off and don't call back! You hear me! That means you too, doc!"

Then the call disconnected.

The call ended so abruptly, no one could react properly. Shocked wasn't even the word to describe the array of emotions Angela felt at that moment. She stared, dumbfounded, at the computer screen. The words Mister Fawkes spat out over the call rang in the woman's ears. They were venomous like a snake, harsh like a wind storm. How could the man say those kind of things, and to a child nonetheless? He showed so much love and adoration to Morgan when she first met the man. What happened to change his mind suddenly?

Morgan sat back in the chair with a flop. Her eyes were stuck on the computer monitor, unblinking. The silence from the girl was eerie. The occasional sniffle was the only noise Morgan made. Angela can't fathom what was going through the child's mind right now. Probably confusion, asking questions and searching for answers.

"Morgan…?" Angela rested her hand on the child's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze.

There wasn't a single type of output from her. She didn't even make an attempt to shrug her off like before. The lack of the usual hostility, Angela did not like it. It wasn't like Morgan.

"Morgan, I'm so sorry." She apologized in a small voice. If she knew this would be the outcome, she would have never even consider making the call. She waited for some kind of response from her. Anything at all.

The sound of the computer chair wheel's rolling across the floor caused Angela to release the child and step back. Morgan slid off the chair, dropping her chocolate bar in the process. Her movements were sluggish and her shoulders were slumped. She swayed back and forth as she headed quietly for the exit.

"Morgan," Angela called after the girl.

She came to a stop on command in front of the door. Her head turned to the side and her eyes looked over her shoulder at the doctor. Angela had seen sadness before, many times in her life. But in Morgan's eyes, her eyes held pure despair in them. Angela's heart ached at the sight. Words of reassurance and comfort were lost from her. She drew blanks on ideas of how to make her feel better. She had nothing. Medicine could never mend a broken heart.

Morgan didn't say a thing. Her head faced the door, she opened it, and walked out of the room. Angela heard the girl's prosthetic click against the floor until the noise faded into the distance. She wanted to follow her, to wrap her arms around her and hug her tight. To tell her everything would be fine but all of that would be a lie. She had no idea if things would be fine for Morgan. Angela never felt so helpless in her life.

Waves crashed against the rocks below the cliff, spraying the salty water into the humid air. Seagulls squawked as they circled the warm seas in the skies above. The sun was getting low in the sky. Mixtures of oranges, reds, and pinks claimed the once blue sky and white clouds. The scent of sea salt traveled on the wind currents of Gibraltar, wafting through the Overwatch complex.

You would admire the beautiful scenery around you if you weren't feeling so low and crummy. Your legs dangled over the cliff's sturdy edge while you watched the seagulls fly about. Thoughts and emotions swirled in your head yet your face held a black stare on the outside. You didn't move or twitch as you usually did. Your muscles were too stiff to make any movement.

Rat didn't want you anymore. The words he screamed at you continued to bore into your ears. Slowly, you shut your eyes and tried to concentrate on the noises surrounding you. No matter how much you attempted to forget what happened, you were dragged back into a fray of feelings. Were all the things he did for you just lies? All the praise, smiles, and head pats and hugs; why? What did you do wrong? Were you not good enough for Rat's standards now? Did he use you for his own enjoyment?

You opened your eyes and looked down at your hands in your lap. Your fingers played with the hem of your t-shirt, pulling at a loose thread. You were all alone now. Ma and Pa were gone, now Rat and Hog. You had no one. Why did all the people you love just leave? Why even exist anymore? The thought of throwing yourself off the cliff to the mercy of the rocks and the sea below crept up in the back of your mind.

"Thought you would be out here," a gruff voice said behind you.

Someone actually came after you? You turned your head to face the owner of the voice. Who it was standing took you by complete surprise. It was Baldy. Why him? He kind of made it clear to you that he didn't care for you. Why was he here? You gave him nothing. Not even a grunt and you went back to staring out at the sea.

"Heard about what happened," He took a seat next to you in the grass. "Had a feeling something like that would happen. Boy didn't look like he could stand up to take on responsibility like a real man."

You looked over at him and his eyes met yours. There was some unusual gentleness you hadn't seen before in his aged eyes.

"Probably got some emotions all bottled up inside, don't you?" he asked.

Yes, you did. Sadness, anger, confusion, hate; there was so much swirling within you. All you did was give him a small nod.

Baldy shook his head and said, "Can't keep that inside of you. It'll just tear you to pieces." He waved his hand out to the open seas before you. "Go on, let it out."

You understood the bearded man's words. You climbed up to your feet and stared at the blue waters stretched out to the horizon. All the feelings you felt mixed together and went off like a thousand tons of explosives. You screamed, screamed at the top of your lungs. The seagulls scattered at your outburst. Hot, angry tears flowed down your face while you continued screaming. Snot bubbled out from your nose. You coughed and gasped for fresh air. Spit spurted out of your mouth and you fell to your knees. Fingers grabbed the ground and pulled out the grass in large clumps. All you could ask whatever gods out there was why. Why you? Why were you given this life you had? The only answer you got was the sound of the wind blowing in your ears. The gods weren't even there for you. You were truly all by yourself.

The screaming was soon replaced with sobbing and you laid your body out on the grass. Blades grass caught your tears. They shimmered like jewels in the sunset. You were exhausted, both in body and mind. Baldy's heavy hand rested softly on the middle of your back. You were too tired to fight off his touch so you let it stay for the time being. He rubbed your back in soothing, circular motion. You soon adapted to the man's hand and slowed your breathing to match its pace. Your eyelids drooped from all the events that unfolded that day and you let them close. Sleep wrapped you up tight and pulled you under its dark surface, like the warm waves of the unforgiving ocean. Dreams were too much of a luxury for a reject like yourself.


	4. Big Plans

The deep, drawn out breathing of the slumbering child tucked under the blankets of his bed was the only sound in Torbjörn's dark room. Rays of white moonlight seeped through the dark curtains over the windows but they never made it pass his deck to reach the rest of the room. The man sat at his desk. A table lamp attached to the table shined down warm yellow light upon his balding head, cutting through the darkness around him that the natural light could not. But it wasn't enough light to cause the child to wake up or stir in the slightest. He didn't bring the kid back to the infirmary after her little episode and they hadn't given her a room of her own so why not his room for the time being? Not like he was going to use it right now. And not like he couldn't handle a child, as many children he had back home.

Torbjörn did his usual ritual of calling his wife and children for the night, making sure everything was fine back home. Not that he had anything to really worry about, it was all out of habit. Call to see if everyone was okay then retreat to his workshop with his dinner for a late night session of building. This time in particular he was forced to work in his room instead of the spacious area that was the base's workshop. He didn't want the kid waking up in the middle of the night and sneaking off to God knows where. No one wanted a repeat of the events that conspired earlier that day.

"Now let's see what we're working with," Torbjörn said to himself. He grunted as he lifted a small duffle bag from off the floor to his lap.

The bag had all the effects the kid was brought to the Watchpoint with. And it wasn't much. A photo abulm, one of those Pachimari dolls that were popular with the kids, a variety of trinkets that didn't interest him a whole lot, and what appeared to be battle equipment at the bottom of the bag. Bingo, he smirked. Now he was getting somewhere with his search. He pulled out the objects and placed them on the table before him. He needed to get a better look at what those men armed the child with during their worldwide escapade. What Torbjörn saw made him scowl with both disgust and disbelief.

First, there were bladed gloves made strictly for a child of Morgan's size. He picked them up to get a closer look at them. The fabric under his fingers felt rough to the touch. He could feel every single stitch that created the item. Unidentifiable dark specks dotted the fabric's surface. Dried, old blood, Torbjörn guessed. The man's wasn't a tailor but he knew when a garment was too flimsy and just not good quality to wear. He wouldn't even let an omnic run out in clothes made out of whatever those gloves were sewn from. Wouldn't be surprised if the material was actually hay.

Torbjörn's scowl only hardened as he looked at the rest of the gloves. The blades that turned the gloves into a weapon were of poor quality also. Jagged pieces of scrap metal were bolted down to the fabric at the knuckles by more metal and screws. They had to be about eight inches in length and were coated in orange-red rust here and there. Yeah, someone would get cut by the blades but the person on the other end would just catch tetanus than be injured. He shook his head and threw the gloves back in the bag. The blades clanked together as they fell into the open bag carelessly and without much regard. Those diseased steak knives wouldn't cut it for him.

Next was the child sized armor, or what Torbjörn believed it was supposed to be armor. It was some kind of combination of a harness and a breastplate. All of it was put together with rusted metal, leather, screws, and probably the dreams of an insane criminal. Looking at it made Torbjörn both angry and uncomfortable. It wasn't built right at all, created by the hands of some imbeciles that knew nothing about proper armor. He laughed at himself and tossed the sad excuse for protection in the bag with the gloves. All of it clanged together and Torbjörn pushed it in the nook between his bed and the bedside table. He would more than likely get rid of that mess of equipment in the morning before the kid woke up. She didn't need anything to remember those two by.

His hand grasped around a drawer handle to his right and he pulled it out as slow as he could. The drawer made this loud screech when opened that Torbjörn hated. He forgot to fix it since he always worked at his station in the shop. His eyes peered over at the sleeping child as he opened the drawer wider then he stopped. Morgan stirred in her slumber, whimpering and mumbling incoherent words to the man's awaiting ears.

A heavy sigh and a shake of his head was all the bearded man could give as he took out some blueprint paper from the open drawer. Nightmares. He repaired plenty of things: weapons, turrets, armor, and the list went onward. Magma, sweat, and the hard poundings of a hammer couldn't fix a child's mind. He had to take a more gentle approach to this. The wheels of the chair rolled under him as he pushed away from the table and set his feet on the floor.

His pudgy fingers grabbed ahold of the little Pachimari by one of its dark green tentacles. The soft fuzz of the Pachimari's surface contrasted the hard callouses on the engineer's hands. He brought the stuffed toy close to the kid, pressing it against her arms. Her arms clamped around the defenseless Pachimari like a snake on a mouse. She flipped her body away from him to settle back into a deep sleep. Torbjörn pulled the black and red blanket his wife knitted him over her body and rested his hand on the top of her head.

She wasn't a bad kid, he could tell that. It was how she raised. None of it was her fault.

Torbjörn returned to his seat, swiveled it to face the desk once again, and shifted his weight in the cushion. His eyes rested on the sleeping child again and the urge to smile reared its head. He did not dare to fight the urge.

Rolling out the blue gridded paper and anchoring it to the table with a hammer shaped paperweight, Torbjörn commented as he pointed over at Morgan, "I've got big plans for you." He then took a white pencil into his left hand. "Now let's get to work." The sharp tip of the pencil touched the paper and he began to sketch the ideas he already had in mind. He would raise Morgan right. Torbjörn had no doubt about it. Tomorrow, he would start turning the figurative gears of his plan.

"And this will be your room," Winston announced as he stopped in front of a metal door and waved his hand towards it.

He finished giving Morgan an extensive tour of Watchpoint Gibraltar and its facilities. Winston went on to describe every single detail of the Watchpoint while the child followed by his side the entire time. She didn't make a move to escape or berate him with insults. No words came from the child's mouth for the tour's duration.

"I assigned the room beside Lena's room," He added. "I'm certain that you two will enjoy being neighbors."

Together, they stood in front of the door. There was a golden metal nameplate mounted to the door that Winston made beforehand. _Morgan 'Scrappup' Shea_ , the plaque read in large letter font. Morgan looked up to Winston then her eyes settled on the door, tightening her little hands around her bag's strap over her shoulder.

The child's unusual quietness had Winston rubbing the back of his neck, scratching his nose, and adjusting his glasses more than usual. Word traveled quick through their small group about the less than pleasant result produced from his idea. He felt a pang of guilt for being responsible for Morgan's current distress and behavior. He avoided saying anything about the situation entirely for the whole time they been together. It hadn't ease his guilt that made his stomach cramp up or lower the level of awkwardness in the air.

"If you want to open the door," Winston explained to not dwell on his thoughts. "You just touch the screen right here." He pointed to the small box built into the wall next to the door. "Or if your hands are full, you can ask Athena for assistance. She is hardwired into the entire Watchpoint. Here, let me show you for example."

Winston brought his index finger up and tapped the box's gridded screen gently. His fingerprint opened ever door in the facility if he needed to. He never broke into another person's room unless it was a dire emergency. The screen glowed a light blue and the door slid open to the left into the wall. Morgan backed away at the action then she poked her head inside the room, curious. Winston flicked the light switch in the on position to give Morgan a better view as she went further in the room.

The room was a medium sized area, which all the personal rooms were the exact same dimensions. There was a king sized bed dressed in clean linens, a bedside table, a large desk pushed up against the north most wall, a personal computer, a closet with sliding doors, and a wooden dresser near the bed. A window, large and clear with a set of neat red curtains on the room's left wall, was a portal to the outside world. The view from the window overlooked the beautiful seaside that the island was famous for.

Morgan tossed her belongings on the floor at the foot of the bed and went for the window. Her prosthetic leg scraped against the wall as she hauled herself upon the wide ledge. The warm sunlight of the mid-afternoon sun washed over her, turning her whole body an orange tint. She watched the scenery on the other side of the glass.

Her fingertips of her left hand pressed slowly on the glass. "Is…this mine?" she asked in a small voice, keeping her eyes on the outside.

Winston was both perplexed and caught off guard for a second at the girl's sudden question. His reply was immediate though when the question registered in his head. "Well, of course it is. This room belongs to you now and you may do whatever you see fit with it."

The answer cause Morgan to nod her twice. "Cool…" He heard her say, just barely audible. She grew quiet once more and the buzzing of white noise returned to his ears.

"I hope you find everything you need here," Winston then said. "I understand how jarring and difficult it can be to suddenly adjust to a new environment. But I assure you that you're in good hands here."

Morgan glanced at the scientist for just a moment, as if to judge his words in her mind, then went back to looking outside the window.

"I'm…sorry for everything that has happened to you as of lately. Calling Junkrat and Roadhog was my idea." Winston admitted. His eyes averted to the floor at his hands and feet. "I had no idea it would lead to…this type of outcome. I thought it would make you feel better to hear their voices."

"Rat yelled at me. Called me some junkyard dog." Morgan said. "Rat and Hog hate me."

"T-that's not true, Morgan!" countered Winston. "They brought you into Overwatch's care when you were ill. They care about you immensely. The two men spoke about you with such adoration."

Morgan drew her legs up tight to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. "Then why they leave? Everybody leaves me…"

At that time, Winston had nothing else to say to change the child's mind and make her feel better. He wasn't proficient in child psychology. All Winston could do now was to leave her to her own thoughts, as much as he didn't want to.

The door slid close behind him with a quick _whoosh_ after he exited the room. He was glad that Morgan liked her new room to some extent you he couldn't help but to frown at the guilt that gnawed at his entire being. He lowered his head and sighed. The feeling of loneliness and fear was mutual between them. Winston vividly remembered the intense array of emotions he felt when he escaped the lunar uprising many years ago. Though he knew how to hide the emotions well beneath his research, it still hurt under the surface. He understood Morgan more that she believed.

His ears perked up to the sound of heels on the tile floor. He knew it had to be only one person, and Lena didn't wear heels. It was Angela, who approached him from his right side. He raised his head up when she halted in her steps by his side.

"How was the tour?" Angela asked and she looked at the door to Morgan's room. "I hope Morgan behaved herself in your care."

"She was…quiet during the whole tour." He said to the doctor. "Until I showed her to her new room."

"Oh?" Doctor Ziegler's thin eyebrows rose and she shifted the stack of file folders in her arms. "Nothing too vulgar, I assume."

"No, no. Nothing like that, doctor." Winston was quick to say while he itched the back of his neck nervously. "She asked why Junkrat and Roadhog leave her and that everyone leaves her."

The doctor frowned and mumbled, "I see," Both of them were silent as they looked at Morgan's door. Then, almost immediately, a small smile appeared on her heart shaped face.

"Doctor Ziegler?" Winston was confused at the woman's abrupt change in facial expression. "Is there something that came to mind?"

"Pardon me, Winston." Angela said she walked pass him in a slight power walk. "I need to make a few calls."

Winston watched her go with a raised brow and he scratched his cheek. He wondered what she had planned. Hopefully nothing too over the top or drastic.

"Winston!"

The familiar gruff voice of Torbjörn made him turn around the other person. The smaller man was now standing in front of the scientist with several rolled-up blueprints tucked under his fleshy arm. "What do you know about breathable and lightweight fabric materials?" he asked.

"Oh?" What a particular question to ask, Winston thought. "Working on a new project, Torbjörn?"

The engineer chuckled, proud as ever. "You could say that." He patted his blueprints with his metal hand and pointed his thumb to the door. "Hafta take the kid's measurements for a uniform. Can't have her walking around the place in rags, you know."

"A uniform?" Winston amber eyes grew big and he cocked his head to the side. "Torbjörn, don't tell me you're considering…"

"Making the little tyke a cadet?" Torbjörn completed his sentence with a grin on his face. "You had your project with Lena and the good doctor with Genji. I think it's about time for me to get my hands on a willing subject."

Winston frowned at his remark. "Torbjörn, I believe Morgan is a bit young to be a cadet. Plus, she is at a delicate state right now. Intense cadet training would affect her mentally in some way."

"Captain Amari had been training her daughter before she could even walk!" Torbjörn retorted. "You know what this kid has been through, we all do. That wasteland of a country, radiation, death, those madmen, killing, thieving, and the list goes on. She dealt with all of that and hadn't lost her little head 'til now. All her moping around ain't going to make her feel any better."

"I know you have your way with children. Better than anyone else here." Winston confessed. "I just wonder what you have planned for Morgan. I know how passionate you are with your projects."

Torbjörn placed him metal hand on his left hip. "I'm not gonna turn the kid into a turret, if that's what you're worrying about."

"I never know with you, Torbjörn…"

Well since you're curious," the man said, taking out one of many blueprints he had with him. "Might as well show you what I got in store for her."

The paper unraveled before Winston, curling a little at the bottom. On the paper was a sketch of a body suit, helmet, and weaponized gauntlets. While the body suit was lack luster, the helmet and gauntlets were more stylized. Four sharp blades were equipped to one end of each of the gauntlets with an area of articulation at the wrist. The helmet was fashioned to have the appearance of that of a dog's head, cut right off where the jaw would start. Winston concluded quickly that the helmet was built to cover the wearer's eyes, ears and nose.

"It ain't as glamorous as a Reyes creation," Torbjorn commented as he rolled the paper back up and returned it with the others blueprints. "But it will do its job once it's finally made. Been a long time since we had as cadet or a member of Blackwatch."

"Blackwatch…" Winston hadn't heard that name in years. That section of Overwatch was buried with the late Commander Reyes. Why was Torbjörn bringing up Blackwatch up in conversation now? Then it hit him. No, it could be. "Torbjörn, you can't be implying that you are making Morgan not only a cadet but a Blackwatch cadet. You simply can't put all that responsibility on a child. Plus we have no need for Blackwatch at this point in time."

There was a certain look in the short engineer's eyes; a mixture of judgment and disappointment. Torbjörn sighed, "Look, I ain't going to lie to you, Winston. We're in the dark where we are now, even with your fancy satellites." His voice grew more course than usual. "Talon is always two steps ahead of us somehow, snatching up technologies faster than we can find them. No one could gather intel better than a Blackwatch agent and you know this."

His words made Winston look towards Morgan's golden plaque on her door and remained quiet. Torbjörn was right. In the way of intelligence, Overwatch was the turtle and Talon was the hare. Winston didn't want to admit it. He hoped other Overwatch agents would respond to the recall before he was even considering reinitiating Blackwatch. But Overwatch needed an ace in their bag of tricks if they wanted to one-up Talon. Perhaps an espionage agent is what they needed.

Winston's eyes set back on Torbjörn and he asked, "Are you sure Morgan can do this? Espionage activity would be difficult for a child such as her."

Torbjörn laughed, "I wouldn't have drawn up these schematics if I didn't believe in her!"


	5. Who Are You

You were Morgan Shea, the only child of Joanna and Davvid Shea. Every day you watched your parents work hard in the fields and in their lab. You played with dolls and trucks, chased magpies, and caught bugs for fun. You were curious and willing to learn about the world around you. Morgan died when the bad people took away your parents in cold blood.

You were Kidd, a feral kid living in a junkyard with dogs. Until you met Rat, that is. Rat took care of you and you too care of him. Together, you and Rat defeated the bad people and avenged your parents. Kidd died when Rat gave you your brand new Junker name.

You were Scrappup, a hardened criminal along with Rat and Hog. You lied, cheated, stole, and you loved every minute of it. Cops couldn't handle your boundless energy and failed to catch you every time. You attacked then with brutality; you learned to hate them from Rat. Your small body was useful for squeezing into tiny spaces to plant bombs for Rat. That life was full of excitement and adventure. Scrappup died when Rat and Hog abandoned you.

You were now nobody. A sad and lonely nobody lost in the big, bad world…

Your eyes opened slowly and stared up at the white ceiling over your head. You sat up straight in your bed in a swift motion, anxiety started to form in your gut. It took a moment, through the heavy haze of sleep, to remember where you were. A sigh fell out of your mouth. Your head flopped on the soft pillow beneath you and you rubbed the crust from out your eyes.

The Gorilla Man (Win-Ston, was it?) gave you your own room in this big place. You never had your own room before. A single room was always shared between you, Rat, and Hog. Depression hit your little body like a massive wave when Rat and Hog came to mind. They left you here, with these… _strangers_. You still didn't understand why though. Was it something you did or said? You wanted answers, any kind of answers, to make the sadness go away. You would change anything and everything about you if it meant bringing Rat and Hog back.

Tossing off the blankets that covered your body, you sat up again and scooted your body to the edge of your bed. The curtains remained drawn back from your sitting on the window's large ledge. The sun was just rising into the morning sky, setting in and the clouds ablaze in a fiery orange tint. You blinked a couple of times to rid the fog film from your eyes. Morning already? You couldn't pinpoint when you fell asleep last night. You believed you passed out after crying your eyes out over a cliff. Your stomach soon rumbled at the thought of a warm breakfast out in front of you. But you weren't sure how to get it. Were you supposed to ask one of the grown-ups for food or steal it like you had in the past?

Your eyes fell upon your legs, particularly the nub that was your left leg, then on to the scrap prosthetic leg that laid on the floor nearby. When you went down to reach for it, your hand hovered inches above it. Why were you hesitating? You needed that leg to walk around normally. But…Rat made that leg a long time ago. You squeezed your hand into a fist, a burning sensation ran through your left leg, and you shook your head. Something deep within told you not to put it on. For a moment, your fist remained over the leg until you retracted your hand. You would have a difficult time getting around but you wouldn't have the thought of Rat on your body. With your foot, you kicked the prosthetic leg under the bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

There was several knocks on the door and your head turned towards it. It had to be one of the strangers; you didn't feel like seeing them right now. You pulled the blankets back over your body, curling up into a tight ball under them.

"Morgaaan!" You heard a lady's voice call out your name from the other side of the closed door. It was sweet like honey and warm like sunlight. You remembered there were only two ladies, not including Athena, out of the group of strangers. The voice didn't belong to Fake Ma so it had to be the other lady. "Come on out, luv. I promise I don't bite!"

You snorted and stayed in place where you were. Like hell you were opening that door for anyone. Sleeping sounded like a much better idea than anything else. Maybe if you laid where you were and just ignore her, the lady would go away.

The loud _whoosh_ of the metal door at the entrance of your room opening made you poke your head out of hiding. Your suspicion turned out to be true when the woman approached the foot of your bed. She was a thin lady yet appeared to have some muscle on her bones. The hair on her head was as brown as your own. The only difference being that her hair was short and spiky, as if she was running against the wind constantly.

You shot up immediately, caused the blankets to fall off your body, and barked at the lady. How dare this lady just walk into your room without permission? This was your room. Your personal space and no one was allowed in. It was your only safe haven to the world around you. Your territory. She was an intruder and she needed to leave.

"Calm down, calm down," she attempted to reassure you with a friendly voice. "It's alright, I'm not gonna hurt you. I never got to introduce myself since you were feelin' down. My name is Lena but you can call me by my call sign 'Tracer' if you like. I'm not picky at all."

Your barking faded into throaty growls while you kneaded the blankets in your small hands and bared your teeth at the woman. You were able to get a better look to her now since the blankets no longer hinder your sight. The lady, Tracy you would call her, had a cluster of tiny brown freckles over the bridge of her nose. Just like Ma's before her head blew up. You liked freckles. Freckles were like sprinkles but for human skin instead of cupcakes. It was probably the single thing you liked about the lady.

Under the curve of her left arm was some kind of strange device. You remembered she had it strapped to her chest when you saw her the first time. The middle of the device glowed a light blue as the light slowly spun in a clockwise rotation as the rest of it was made from some sort of metal.

"You got a curious eye, don't ya?" Tracy asked and she patted the surface of the device with her free hand. "This is my accelerator. It keeps my atoms together and from vanishing into thin air. Or that's how Winston explained it. All of it is weird time stuff, y'know?"

A snort of disinterest came from your nostrils and you turned away from the woman. You didn't understand or care what she was talking about. It didn't matter to you. What matter was what she was doing in your room in the first place. Didn't she have something better to do with her life and time?

"Why you here?" You asked, narrowing your eyes. The faster she left you alone, the better.

"I'm here to make sure you get up this morning and clean up, of course!" Tracy stated matter-of-factly. She moved from the foot of your bed to the side closest to the window. You quickly bounced away from her, creating as much distance as you could with the amount of bed you had. You didn't want her getting too close to you.

She place what she called an accelerator on the edge of your bed, leaving both of her hands free for use. Tracy reached down for your bag and grabbed ahold of the flap which covered its opening. Your body stiffened and you grasp one of the tentacles of your Pachimari nearby.

"No!" You barked as you began to beat the woman over the head with the doll. "It's mine! Mine!" How dare she touch your stuff.

The toy squeaked each time it made contact with her. She raised her right arm to protect herself from the onslaught. "Hey, hey!" Tracy exclaimed, still trying to go through your things with her other hand. "Stop hittin' me with your toy! I'm not tryin' to steal your things, I swear!"

Whatever! You threw the Pachimari at her, aiming directly at her face. It smacked Tracy against the side of her head and fell to the floor with another cute squeak. The shock on the woman's face couldn't satisfy the intense anger you suddenly felt. You turned your back to her and sat with your arms crossed in a huff. You didn't care what she did with your stuff anymore. It belonged to Scrappup. And as far as you were concerned, Scrappup didn't exist. Items started to appear by your side as Tracy pulled it out from the bag. You glanced at them from the corner of your eyes, but not like you were curious or you cared.

They were things you weren't a stranger to. A towel, a small tube of toothpaste, a black and red toothbrush, a bar of soap, and a smaller towel for the face. All of them were stuff people used to cleaning themselves, you recalled from past experiences. Winston gave you those to you yesterday when he dragged you around the compound. Toiletries, he called them. What a dumb name for them.

"Looks like Winston already gave you everything you needed," Tracy commented. She grabbed the toiletries in one hand and her accelerator by its strap in the other. "Come on. Let's get ready to face the day. I got a lot of stuff planned for us."

Us? You stared down at your hands folded in your lap. Like anyone wanted to do anything with you. Plus, you needed your leg to get around but…The thought swimming in your head made you swallow hard. Once again, you reached down over the side of the bed. Your fingers brushed against the metal the leg, grabbed the leg, and then brought it up to your lap. Anxiety caused your stomach to tighten and cramp while you put your leg on. Tracy watched you the entire time as you did so. You wished she would do something else other than stare at you.

"You know how to put that on like a pro for someone as young as you, huh?" Tracy asked.

"Uh," you grunted, sliding off the bed and standing on your two feet.

"Must have lots of experience with it," she said as she walked you out of your room and down the hallway. "Heard you lost your leg when that twitchy guy blew you up. Pretty wicked that someone like you could survive an explosion!"

So someone told her how Rat took your leg; what a nosey woman she was. You did not give her a reply though. You weren't in the mood to talk at that moment in time. You would be in…different circumstances. You liked to talk but now? What was the point anymore?

The clicking of your metal leg on the tile floor and the speed which you were walking at were your main focus. One foot in front of the other. Breathe in and breathe out. Repeat. There, you were still alive. Still in this strange place.

Tracy turned off into an open door to her left and you followed close behind. Winston showed you his place yesterday. Called it a washroom. It was like a regular bathroom but much larger so everyone could use it. One side of the wide room was a large mirror covering the whole wall with a counter and several sinks beneath it. You counted eight sinks in total. On the other side were dark blue tiled shower stalls with a solid white curtains blocking the entrance of all of them. Ahead of you was an opening to another room. That room had blue lockers and wooden benches inside.

Tracy led you over to the sinks and sat the accelerator and the toiletries on the marble counter. She pulled out a step stool from under the sinks and placed it in front of your feet. You stepped up and soon you were high enough to see your reflection in the mirror. And God did you look like a complete mess of a human being. Dark circles under your eyelids, hair sticking up all over the place, and the dead look in your eyes. If Rat was there, he would comment in his own words how crappy you looked.

"Torbjörn uses this stool but I don't think he'll mind you use it for now." Tracy pointed out. She stood nearby in front of her own sink. "You know how to brush your teeth and wash your face, right luv?"

You nodded. Of course you did but you never really did it yourself. Hog always cleaned you up in the morning and bathed you when the police weren't hot on your tails. You paid close attention to how Hog cleaned you in the past that you had the processes memorized. If there was something positive you could say about yourself was that you were observant. Maybe if you did that stuff, you could go back to bed.

Toothpaste on the toothbrush, put it under the water, and then brush your teeth. Simple as that. The taste of mint burned your tongue and you spit out the foam into the sink. You hated the way the toothpaste felt in your mouth. You never had to do this stuff with your pack. You missed your pack dearly. They knew how to make you feel better.

You pressed the hot, damp cloth against your face and let out a pent-up sigh as the steam warmed your skin. Thoughts muddled together like paint. Lots and lots of paint, until it turned to a disgusting shade of brown. An ugly color, your color. Your little fingers dragged the cloth halfway down your face, letting your eyes stare at your unmoving reflection. Your mind went blank and the world around you began to crumble at the seams. Darkness started to take ahold of you. Its slimy appendages crawled up your legs and put weight on your shoulders.

" _You're getting so big, Morgan!"_ A distorted and distant woman's voice told you. "Soon you'll be bigger than the crops!" Her laughter echoed until it trailed off into another voice.

" _Did ya see Scrappy out there?"_ A distorted loud man's voice hammered in your skull. _"Takin' down those pigs like a champ! We got a real animal on our hands, Hog!"_

The darkness then climbed onto the mirror, swallowing your reflection at a fast rate. Before it overtook the mirror, you reflection grinned big and its eyes turned bright red.

"Morgan?" a call of your name and a firm grim squeeze of your shoulder chased away the darkness. Your surroundings returned to normal at a snap of a finger. Tracy was closer to you now. Her large brown eyes looked down at you in concern. How they reminded you of your Pa. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You look like you seen a ghost!"

You glanced back at the reflection then stared up at the woman. Emotions ran wild within you. You longed for the comfort of a tight hug. As much as you wanted, needed a hug, you managed to retrain yourself against wrapping your arms around Tracy's neck. Instead of embracing her, you twisted the washcloth in your hands. You weren't fine but you couldn't let her know your weakness. Another nod was the answer to her question; a big old lie which she took the bait. If she didn't, you didn't know what to do then. At least you learned how to lie from Rat.

After were all cleaned up, Tracy brought you to the mess for breakfast. It was a large area where people ate together. She sat you down at a wide, and round table in the center of the room and placed a bowl of some kind of oatmeal in front of you. It wasn't kind of oatmeal Hog gave you. When you took the spoon in your hand, the stuff wasn't as heavy as oatmeal was. It tasted like cinnamon when you shoveled a spoonful in your mouth.

"I heard you spent a lot of time with those two blokes," Tracy made small talk as she put a glass of milk next to you and sat down beside you. "It was all over the news! Big, bad, wacky criminals with a kid in their care. Many people wanted to save you from them. But you can guess how well that went."

You continued eating. You knew what she was talking about. Every heist those pigs tried to steal you away from Rat and Hog. None of them ever succeeded though. You always slipped out of their grasp each and every time. Returned to where you belonged. Where you belonged; the sentence repeated in your head. Hog and Rat weren't home anymore. You were homeless.

"Well you're with us now!" Tracy exclaimed. "You can't be in a better place than with Overwatch. You'll love it here, Morgan. And the town down the road is really interesting place. Lots of places to visit and see. I'll take you out, yeah?"

The spoon dropped out your hand and clinked in the empty bowl. "Out?" you parroted. There was a town? You thought you were trapped in this big building on an island. But now, it made you think. This was your chance for escape, to get as far away from these strangers. You didn't any sort of plan but you knew it would come to you when the opportunity arose.

"Yeah!" Tracy said. "I put off combat training a bit to have a little fun." She giggled, light and airy. "And the doctor or the others don't mind if I just steal you away for a few hours."

"'Kay," you said with a nod. "Me go wif you." You took the glass of milk in your hand and drank down the cold drink. It was real milk, not that disgusting powdered stuff you were used to. It was refreshing.

"Great!" the woman cheered. She grabbed your dirty bowl and dashed into the kitchen, a trail of blue light following behind her. How fast she moved made you jump a little. It was like she was teleporting or really speedy. Tracy came back in the blink of an eye, returning to her seat next to you. "We can leave as soon as you want," she added. "I won't keep you out too long, mind you." She laughed again. "The doctor will certainly mind if I did that. But you could use the fresh air and to stretch your legs a little."

You dressed yourself in better clothing more suited for a public environment after breakfast. Denim overalls that were a bit old and worn, white and black short sleeved shirt, and a worn sandal on your remaining foot was an okay outfit. Not like you were dressing for anyone special or that it mattered what you wore out in the world. Most of the time, you ran around with no shirt on and leather over your chest. Fashion was never your top priority. Not by a long run.

Tracy came back wearing a high-waisted shorts with white shirt tucked in neatly. She walked you into a large garage filled to the brim with different kinds of vehicles. Some that you never seen before. There was a massive airship stationed in a weird dock connected to the ceiling high above your head and smaller hovering vehicles scattered around the area. Shipping crates in many sizes with a variety of tools on and around the room. You wondered what was in them. Had to be something important or costing a lot of green stuff. No one would have that many shipping crates if they weren't trying to hide something.

"Here it is!" Tracy announced and jogged over to a mass covered by a giant blue tarp. The woman grabbed a firm hold on the tarp, causing it to crinkle under her fingers. "I'll like to introduce you to T-Racer!" She pulled off the tarp in a single, quick motion. Beneath the protective covering was a small motorcycle. It wasn't those fancy hovercycles everyone had these days. It had two wheels just like Hog's bike, though it was smaller and more compact than his. The bike's body, painted a gradient of orange and yellow, shined with a bright sheen in the light. The word _Tracer_ with a lightning bolt underneath was stenciled on the side in white paint. You had to admit, it looked kind of neat.

"Pretty cool, isn't it?" asked Tracy. She leaned her backside against the seat of the bike. "Got it at an antique auction a few years back. Gave it a new coat of paint and a lil bit of love. Now look at it. This beauty could enter races! Oh yeah, let me get the sidecar!" Tracy dashed not too far away from you and the motorcycle.

From behind one of the shipping containers, Tracy pushed out an orange and yellow round sidecar. It was much cleaner and shiner than Rat's rusted and dirty sidecar. It even matched her bike.

"Since the bike's seat is too small for two people to ride on," Tracy positioned the sidecar parallel with the bike and she grabbed a wrench from off the concrete floor. "I bought the sidecar so my girlfriend and I could go riding together." She laughed and shimmied in between the two metal bodies. "I don't think Emily would mind sharing with you." The sound of metal on metal clanging against each other while Tracy worked; it was comforting.

You always watched Hog fix up his motorcycle, whether it be repairs or maintenance. Though most of the time he was quiet, he answered what parts or tools you pointed out. The clicks, banging, and scraping; it made you close your eyes and take a deep breath in then out. It was almost like you were back in the hideout with them…

"There we are!" You heard Tracy said and you opened your eyes again. The woman slung her slender legs over the motorcycle's seat and pulled orange tinted goggles onto her face. She looked at you and smiled. "Are you just gonna stand there and look pretty?" she then beckoned you over with a wave of her hand. "Come on! Climb on in!"

You made your way to the sidecar in slow strides, guard up higher than castle walls. She hadn't earn your trust yet but you would let her do what she wanted, for now. Your fingers curled around the edge of the sidecar and you peered inside. The seat was made from black leather, free from wear and tear of vigorous use. Soft light brown carpeting covered the floor of the car and the curve adjacent to the seat. Not a single piece of trash or stain was on the carpet. It put Rat's sidecar to shame. It was the complete opposite of each other. Rat's car was dirty, worn, and always had some kind of trash in it.

You lifted yourself off your feet and leaned forward, falling inside with a grunt. Flailing your arms and legs for a moment, you managed to position yourself correctly in the seat. Your eyes stared at your feet as they dig into the carpet. The tiniest strands of wonder and excitement slipped in your mind. Never had you sat in a sidecar on your own before. You always hung on Rat's or Hog's shoulders instead. Safety was for loser anyway. Danger was your middle name.

"Now let me just…" Her sentence trailed off as she leaned in towards you. In her hands was a pair of goggles similar to the one she wore. She pulled its stretchy elastic black band behind your head, pushing your puffy hair out the way. An orange tint was added to your sight as the goggles were fitted on your face. "And done!" said Tracy, sitting up straight again. "Now we match! Who said you can't be both safe and cool looking?"

Your fingers touched the thick plastic of the goggles. Never had you worn something like that. It felt kind of weird but you agreed, you did feel cool as hell. You held onto the sides of the car, bouncing up and down repeatedly. Your excitement grew, pushing through and sprouting in the dry soil that was your mind. Rat's mean words still lingered at the corners; you stopped bouncing and laid back in the seat. You looked at Tracy, who noticed you quickly and smiled at you as she did before.

"Ready to get going, Morgan?" she asked.

"Uh," you answered and turned your head away. The thought of escape returned to push away all other thoughts and feelings out of your head. Where would you go once you had your freedom? Probably find some strays and rebuild your pack; your true family before Rat and Hog. It was with dogs where you felt as if you belonged. They never hated you in anyway.

The heat of the bright sun high above in the cloudless sky cooked the coastal town of Gibraltar in its summer rays. Heat, hot and humid, baked the tan brickwork that created the streets and the air like a town sized oven. It wasn't like the familiar sting of the dry Australian sun you grew up every day in but you didn't complain. The heat of the day caused the skin on your arms to stick to the leather and a little sweat started to form on your forehead.

People, lots of people. There were lots of people in this town, more than any of the cities you visited in the past. The people kept to the left or right sides of the street, leaving the middle clear for small vehicles to pass through without accident. The speed Tracy drove at was agonizingly slow compared to the high speed chases you loved. It did give you the chance to watch your new environment pass you by which you wouldn't have seen if you were traveling faster.

Small stores and shops lined both sides of the street. There were plenty of shops you didn't recognized went by your sidecar. You were always in a hurry and on the move with Rat and Hog that you recalled hiding out in hotel room after hotel room. But with these strangers, you were trapped in their grasp against your will to follow their rules. Tracy taking you out was all a part of her plan to catch you with your guard down. You weren't a stupid person; you were the smartest, most clever child there was in the world.

"How 'bout some frozen yogurt?" Tracy asked. Her voice barely loud enough to be heard over the engine and the lot of people around them. "I know of a place nearby. It'll cool us off from this heat."

You didn't object. You wanted to know what the lady had in store for you. The motorcycle came to a slow stop in front of a particular shop out of the many that made up the town. You pulled the goggles from your face and let the eyewear dangle from around your neck. A pretty, round sign decorated in painted white flowers reading _'White Daisy'_ swung in the tiny breeze right outside the shop's entrance.

"Here we are," Tracy said and shut off the bike. She pulled her goggles off just as you did and ruffled her hair several times. She grinned and continued, "White Daisy. Emily and I go here all the time when she comes to visit."

There was that name again; Emily. Tracy must have some kind of fondness for this Emily character. It made you a little curious.

You climbed out of the sidecar in sync with Tracy throwing her leg from over the bike. She blinked, faster than you could follow, to your side and held out her left hand to you. You looked at the woman then at the open hand awaiting for any kind of response.

" _Bite it,"_ the voices, mere whispers in the back of your head, ordered you to do. " _Bite it and bite it hard. Make her fear you."_ The voices were the wild and feral side of yourself wired deep in the wrinkles of your brain ever since you lived with your pack. The longer you stayed in Rat and Hog's care, the quieter and more distant the voices became. They were still there but not as loud as they were before. They told you what to do and you obeyed without question because they kept you alive. Now was different. You didn't need or want to survive. You wanted to live.

Slowly, you disobeyed the voices and lifted your hand from your side. Your fingers coiled around Tracy's hand and gave it a little squeeze. Nothing happened. Tracy's hand was soft with a little callous on her fingertips. Her face beamed at your gesture and a small gasp came out her mouth. With a scowl, you turned your head away. If she was going to make that stupid face, you wouldn't have grabbed her hand in the first place. She squeezed your hand in return, not too hard or too soft, and led you around the front of the motorcycle then away from it. Next to the yogurt shop was an area with tables under the cooling shade of a white and green striped awning. Tracy sat you down at a table closest to the street, pushing your chair up snugly to the table.

"You stay right here and I'll bring back something good, okay?" Tracy told you before she ducked inside the shop with haste.

Your fingers tapped on the metal table with no pattern to them while your eyes wandered all over the place. The white noise of strangers chatting in languages you lacked understanding to and the tapping failed to keep the voice at bay.

" _Now is your chance,"_ They said. " _Flee. Escape. While she is gone, make a run for it. Be free again._ "

Escaping certainly was the plan before, returning to a wild lifestyle and following the voices again. But right now? You were tired of following the voices. You just wanted that frozen yogurt. If you were good, you would get more sweets. Later, you assured the voices but they did not believe it. They were angry at you for the human choice you made. Called you weak and spineless; not like they were the first ones to call you mean things. They better get in line with all the other negative thoughts swimming in your head.

"I'm back!" You turned in your chair and you watched Tracy walked back to the table with a spring in her step. "I hope I wasn't away too long for you." She set a medium sized Styrofoam cup in front of you and sat down in the metal chair across the table. "I got you chocolate since the doctor told me it was your favorite flavor."

Doctor? Oh, she must have meant Fake Ma. That lady seemed to know a lot about you without you even telling her a single thing. You weren't sure how you felt about that. You didn't like people knowing too much about you. Pushing pass your thoughts, your eyes fell upon the Styrofoam cup. There were two large scoops of chocolate flavored yogurt, garnished with three squares of graham crackers and curled shavings of white chocolate on top. It looked too pretty for any person to eat.

"Come on. Dig in!" Tracy urged, taking a bite out of her own yogurt. "Don't want it to melt and get all soupy. I learned that they freeze the yogurt with dry ice! Neat, huh?"

With your tongue, you ran it across the top of both scoops. You smacked your lips in thought. It was cold like ice cream but not as creamy. Still, it was very yummy. You traded your tongue for the handiness of the plastic spoon that came with your yogurt cup and dug in with unusual grace. Didn't want to mess up the prettiness of the yogurt too much.

"Good, isn't it?" Tracy asked.

You nodded.

Tracy smiled, "At least I'm doing something right if you're not yelling at me and hitting me with things."

You frowned. Now you felt bad about hitting Tracy with your Pachimari earlier in the morning. You wouldn't want the same done to you. "Sorry," you mumbled. First time you apologized for your actions, especially to a stranger.

"Ah, don't worry about it. It's nothing really."

"You not mad at me?" you had to ask. You were a jerk since the beginning, you wanted to add but you kept in and poked at your yogurt. Jerk was an understatement. You were hostile to the strangers who were just being nice to you and you hurt them. Tracy was giving you kindness even though you gave you're the exact opposite. "Me was me to everyone…"

"Morgan," Tracy stopped eating and rested her spoon in her cup. Her eyes locked on to yours. It was like looking into the eyes of a long lost friend; familiar and warm. "It's okay, luv. Me, Winston, Doctor Zeigler, Reinhardt, and even Torbjörn; we know what you've been through. It's a lot for a kid to deal with. We might not be Junkrat or Roadhog, like at all, but we care about you! We wouldn't have done all the stuff we did for you if we didn't!"

 _They…cared..?_ Tears stung at the corners of your eyes and you rubbed them away with a balled up fist. She was right. If they didn't care, they would have been mean and nasty. Those tears pooled and rolled down your cheeks to your chin. In Rat's words, you were a big cock to the strangers. The biggest cocking cock in the entire world. Maybe in the future, you would make it up to them.

"Now let's talk about something on a more positive note," Tracy said and continued eating her cold treat. "I've got lots of questions I'm just dying to ask you! Like your name and pronouns! You go by a few things, don't you? What do you feel comfortable with?"

You wiped your tears and sniffled, focusing on the woman's question. It was true, you did go by an assortment of things. You weren't a picky person. Rat did think you were a boy for the longest time. "He and she fine," you replied. "Morgan and Scrappup too. Those me names." It was strange that someone wanted you around and like your presence that wasn't someone you knew. It felt good.

After that, you and Tracy continued talking. Talking to her felt good too. The subjects varied but a particular question Tracy asked you piqued your interest.

"So Morgan, how would you like joining Overwatch? Since you're living with us, that it. The world could use more heroes."

Overwatch. You heard that word before in past conversations but you were unsure what it meant. And heroes? Was she talking about the old stories of heroes fighting against the metal people? It brought confusion to your young mind. "Dunno," you could only answer.

With a nod, Tracy replied, "Yeah, I get it. Maybe it's too early to be askin' questions like that? Heard Torbjörn had some kind of plan for you so I thought…"

You still weren't sure what she was talking about. Might as well get the answers you wanted. "What's Overwatch?" you asked.

Tracy's mouth turned to a small o-shaped and she pointed at you. "That's right! You don't even know what we do!" Tracy then explained with her chest puffed out. "Overwatch are the good guys. Fighting for the freedom of everyone and rage war against terrorists and bad guys. Before you were born, Overwatch had fought many battle and saved many lives! With training, you could join our ranks, come along on missions, and fight the good fight!"

Fight the good fight? Rat said the same exact phrase to you when you three started your worldwide heists. The feeling of togetherness and doing things you've done before, it sounded good to you. This Overwatch thing may be a good deal. Shoving a graham cracker in your mouth, you gave Tracy a thumbs up. Perhaps living with these stranger won't be too bad as it seemed.


	6. The Important Questions

"Morgan said yes?" Winston asked, taken aback. So much that the scientist had to stop tapping on his keyboard and turn around in his makeshift chair made out of two tires. "Really?"

"She sure did," Lena replied. She sat cross-legged on top of a table on Winston's left side. Her fingers fiddled with one of the potted plants' leaves he kept around. "She really wants to join Overwatch. What do you think, Winston?"

He interlocked his fingers over his stomach. "I'm rather mixed on the matter," Winston admitted, "She would be the youngest member Overwatch has ever enlisted. And her safety is something to account for. I just don't want her to get hurt on our watch. There are many different variables in the situation."

"Winston," said Lena, leaning her elbow on her knee and resting her chin in her palm. "This isn't a math problem you can add up and solve. It's complicated. Morgan's complicated."

"I know," he said as his eyes began to wander in thought. "You and Torbjörn are eager for Morgan to join, I can't help but to feel…nervous."

Lena nodded. "I get it. Doing what the Commanders have done in the past, it's going to be tough." She sat up and smiled. "But you don't have to do it alone, Winston. You know what they say: it takes a village to raise a child. Well, it will take Overwatch to train one!"

Winston couldn't help but to chuckle at his friend's way of words. No matter how silly her words were, Lena was right. With that knowledge, he felt a little more at ease about the entire affair. Maybe they could make this work.

"Hey Morgan," Lena greeted. Her eyes were locked at the person beyond the room itself. "Don't be shy. Come on in!"

Winston followed his friend's line of sight to the outside of his office. He straightened himself in his seat when he realized who it was. It was little Morgan, hiding behind the wall outside the room. Part of her head and body was obscured by the wall, staring at the two. Like a nervous puppy, Morgan entered the room slowly on all fours. She remained a distance away from the two, keeping herself close to the wall and quietly staring at them.

"That's right. You two have that interview to do." Lena said. She hopped off the table and headed for the door. "Let me not in you guys' way." The woman stopped in front of the child and placed her hands on her knees with a smile. "Good luck, Morgan!" she said, "You can handle this, I'm sure." She put a gentle hand on the child's head then exited the room. A quick blink down the stairs and Lena was gone out of their sight.

Once again, Winston was left alone with Morgan in his care. This time appeared to be different from the tour of the facility. She was still quiet but the awkwardness between them wasn't as heavy in the air as it was before. It was a relief to Winston since he didn't know what he would do if he had a repeat of yesterday. He wasn't sure if his nerves could handle it. Winston soon realized he was staring Morgan as waded in his inner thoughts, not saying a word to the child. He shook his head, he needed to stop doing that, and pushed a chair nearby up to the large table in the middle of the room.

"Come over and take a seat, Morgan," said Winston, trading his seat at his computers for a single tire at the table.

Morgan sniffed the floor and the air several times then she started making her way to the table. Slowly but surely. Though the awkwardness was practically nonexistent, Morgan was still cautious. The way she walked in a wide circle close to the window and how her eyes darted about from different targets. Winston chalked it up to her still being wary of him. She hopped up onto the chair on the opposite side of the table from him. Her feet remained on the chair's cushion while her fingers tapped against the table's edge.

"Pardon the mess," Winston said. He pushed some papers and books on from in front of Morgan with the back of his hand. "I should have cleaned up before you have arrived." He tried his best to tidy up his workplace but he ended with belongings stacked in strange towers. A nervous laugh wiggle itself out of his grinning mouth. Winston was quick to regain his compose and he brought one of Athena's tablet to his side, along with some writing materials of his own.

"So I heard you and Lena went out earlier today. Did you two enjoy yourselves?" Winston asked. Starting off with small talk would ease both of them into more important questions later on.

Morgan focused on him then nodded her head in two quick motion. "Uh," she grunted, "Tracy take me to get yogurt and go see the fishes. Tracy nice lady. Speedy, fast lady but nice."

Winston found himself smiling at her words. It was a big change in personality from what it was days ago. Still distant but it was a step in the right direction. Lena really knew how to work her magic. "So you two went to the aquarium?" Winston pushed on with his questions. He was intrigued to find out her answers. "Was there a particular fish you liked?"

There was a pause as Morgan appeared to be lost in thought. Then she replied, "Me like the eels and sharks. They got big, sharp teeth and weird eyes." She proceeded to open her mouth wide with her fingers, showing off her sharp and crooked teeth. "Like dis!" she said.

Interesting. He jotted down her answer with a nod of his head. It was about time to start with the real questions, he thought, now that everyone was a little bit more comfortable. "Athena, please start your recording software."

"Certainly," the intelligence said.

"Morgan, Athena will be recording our conversation. Nothing too drastic. Just need your voice and answers on record." Winston explained, "Are you okay with that? I can always shut off the recording software if it makes you uncomfortable."

Her eyes went to Athena then to Winston. She cocked her head to the right and furrowed her eyebrows at his words. "Re-Cord?" she repeated the word, as if it was the first time hearing it.

It would probably be best if he just showed her an example. "Start playback, Athena." He said.

The artificial intelligence went quiet for several seconds before Winston's deep voice came out of her speaker, repeating the words he just said. This caused Morgan's eyes to widen and she shot up in her chair, pointing a finger at Athena as her mouth hung open.

"Calm down, calm down," Winston reassured with a chuckle. "It's okay, I promise. It's only a recording.

"Athena stole your voice!" the child exclaimed.

Winston shook his head. "She didn't steal my voice. Athena just...created a copy of my voice."

Morgan's face relaxed. She lowered her hand back to her side and sat back in her seat. "Oh…okay," Morgan mumbled as she began to fiddle with a pen on the table.

When Morgan appeared to have calm down, Athena switched back to her recording software and Winston adjusted his glasses. "Now, let us begin," he said, "I am going to ask you a series of questions. Please answer these questions honestly and to the best of your ability. Okay, Morgan?"

"Uh," she grunted.

"Good, good," said Winston, flipping through the child's file he had in hand. "I've read that you have spent most of your years in the care of a pack of feral dogs. Can you explain the experience to me?"

"Pack was family after Pa died and the bad people took Ma," said Morgan, removing the pen's top and put it back repeatedly. "They helped me and me helped them. Teach me how to smell and hear good. Just like dogs. Me be useful to Pack 'cause me got hands and no paws. Pack comes when me call for them."

"Interesting," Winston commented, "Have you used your…abilities before to aid your friends?" He didn't want to mention the two men by name to the child and cause some kind of distress.

"Me small," Morgan replied, "Rat use me to go in small places, put bombs down, steal maps, and mess up see-cure-rit-tee stuff. Rat teach me to smell bombs too."

Winston quietly nodded his head as his pen scribbled across the paper. Detecting explosives and disabling security, it could prove to be useful. He made a sidenote to create some sort of training test to measure her level of skill. "Let's move on to a different subject. How about education? What is your level of education?"

"Ed-ja-ca-shun?" Morgan parroted, confused again.

"Yes, like school. Did your parents ever teach you?" asked Winston. For a moment, he forgotten where the child came from. Winston was getting ready to explain what he was talking about but Morgan interrupted him.

"Oh, oh! Me know what you mean!" Morgan shouted, bouncing up and down in her seat. "Me can write and read a little! Me can spell me name too! S-C-R-A-P-P-U-P, Scrappup! I'm Scrappup!"

Winston chuckled. At least she was eager. "Would you like to learn more? I can arrange for someone to manage your studies."

Morgan's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree at his words. "Me learn more?" she asked. "Really?"

"I don't see why not," Winston answered, "An education in the mere stepping stones to opportunity. But I must ask you a very important question. I want to have your response on the record." Slowly taking off his glasses, Winston looked over at the child with intense eyes. "Do you really want to join Overwatch?"

There was another pause and the room was quiet. Morgan's blue eyes locked onto Winston's amber eyes. She was mentally challenging him, staring him down. Morgan then nodded her head. "Me wanna join. Me be useful and help."

"It's not easy work, Morgan. And dangerous."

"Me been with Rat and Hog," the child stated matter-of-factly, "Me always in danger."

Well, she wasn't wrong. Those two men were a dangerous lot. Morgan was surely smarter than she appeared. Winston returned his glasses to their rightful place. If she was willing to work in the organization, then who was he to stop her? It would keep her out of trouble now and into the future also. Yeah, Overwatch would be good for her.

"Alright Morgan," Winst said and wrote down more notes in quick strokes. "That's all the questions I have for you. Thank you for your time. Athena, end and save the recording."

Morgan slid off her chair and galloped out of the room without another word. Winston heard the clacking of her prosthetic against the floor grow further away until it faded into the distance.

"Shall I inform the others to meet here in the next twenty minutes?" suggested Athena.

"Would you, please?" Winston responded. He gathered up the papers and stuck them inside an empty folder. With his pen, he wrote _'Morgan Shea'_ on the folder's yellow surface. He liked having digital and physical copies of Overwatch members' information on hand. Paranoia, he chalked it up to. Ever since Talon attacked, Winston wasn't taking any chances. He had to be more cautious from now on. Putting the folder off to the side, Winston went on to fiddling with one of his barrier generations as he waited for the others to arrive.

"Absolutely not!" Doctor Zeigler shouted. Lena, Reinhardt, Torbjörn, and Winston stood on one side of the room while she stood on the other. Winston had told the group about Morgan's decision just as they arrive. All of them took the news well, except for the good doctor. "We cannot let Morgan join Overwatch! I won't allow it!"

"But doctor," Lena piped in, "Who are we to tell her not to join us? It's her choice to make, not ours."

"Well, she's just a child!" the blonde woman retorted, "She doesn't know what she's getting into!"

"This type of experience will, no doubt, aid Morgan in some way," Winston added.

"Sometimes people come to us seeking glory," Reinhardt said, "To change their ways. Lena is right; who are we to judge the little one's choice?"

Angela brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, flustered. "And you want to reinstate Blackwatch and put her in there also?" Her voice quaked in tone with each word that passed her thin lips. Nothing could mask her frustration the mild tempered woman felt. It radiated off her body like an unseen wave of heat.

The last person to speak against the doctor on the matter was Torbjörn. "I told Winston the same thing before. We need an upper hand on Talon more than ever."

"And you want a mentally scarred child to do the work of an entire covert-ops team, I assume."

"Doctor Ziegler," said Winston.

She interrupted him almost immediately. "You four didn't see what I saw those years ago," her voice was sharp and quiet. "You didn't see Overwatch tear your best friends apart and bury them beneath tons of rubble. I'll be damned if I let the same happen to this poor little girl."

The room was quiet, agonizingly quiet between the five adults. Angela was outnumbered four to one but she wasn't going to hide what she felt.

Though the last to speak his mind, Torbjörn was the first to break the silence. "It's different this time. No Commanders, no petty fighting, and no more questioning morals," he explained, "Now we just have one child to handle and train. I don't think we will have a repeat of Morrison and Reyes' relationship."

Angela's body stiffened at the two names and redirected her gaze out the window which overlooked the compound. "I-I won't let her join," she stammered, "She needs a normal, stable lifestyle and now she can have it. After Morgan's new prosthetic arrives, I will be in charge of her from now on. There won't be another word about Overwatch to her."

"Come on, doctor," Lena whined, "Don't be like that. We can't just hide what we do from her."

"As it stands, I will not let Morgan do anything with Overwatch," Angela stated.

"Me wanna join!"

All heads turned to the entrance of the room and saw the owner of the voice. Morgan stood in the doorway, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

"You're not joining Overwatch, Morgan," the doctor said, "You have more important matters to tend to now that you're better. Let the adults handle that. Doesn't learning sound much better?"

"Me do both then!" Morgan said as she folded her arms. "Me be in Overwatch and be smart!"

Angela shook her head. "We are not having an argument about this, Morgan. You're not joining Overwatch and that's final."

"You're not my Ma! You're just a fake!" shouted Morgan at the top of her lungs. "Me hate you! Me hate you!" She stomped her normal foot down on the doctor's foot. Angela yelped both in shock and pain. Morgan immediately fled the room before anyone could catch her.

"Doctor!" Winston exclaimed, hurrying to her side.

Halting her hopping, Angela raised a hand to him. "I'm fine, Winston," she dismissed, "I'm fine, really. I've dealt with things worse than getting my foot stepped on."

"She still hurting, isn't she?" Reinhardt piped in. "Poor thing…"

Torbjörn quietly exited the room without adding his usual input into the conversation.

Angela exhaled and deep sigh, rubbed her temple, and headed for the door. "If you need my services, I will be in the infirmary as always." The doctor stepped out of the room, taking the hot wave of frustration with her. The tension of the argument still lingered afterwards even with the doctor gone. Winston frowned and removed his glasses to rub his eyes with his thumb and index fingers. He hated fighting and arguments within his team within his team. But he knew all of this would blow over sooner or later. He put his glassed back on his face and exchanged quiet looks with Reinhardt and Lena. They just had to give it time.

The sliding door to your room opened when you came near and stomped your way inside. _Stupid woman_ , you thought as you kicked your Pachimari doll on the floor. The stuffed toy squeaked as it hit the wall above the bed and bounced several times before it sat upright on the floor. It stared at you with that dumb smile and you kicked it again, only for it to ricochet off the wall again and hit you in the face. Infuriated with both your Pachimari and that dumb doctor, you threw yourself on the bed and shoved your face into the pillow. You screamed out your anger and frustration which were muffled by your downy pillow. Your bed shook slightly as you kicked your legs against it then you flipped over in a huff after filtering the rest of your anger from your mouth.

How dare she tell you what you can and can't do, your thoughts told you as you stared at the ceiling above you. She wasn't your real Ma. What power did she really have over you? None, that's what. Why couldn't you just join Overwatch and be smart at the same time? Why did she stop you? Thinking about it brought your anger in full force and you kicked your legs again. God, you hated that woman's guts at that moment. Why couldn't she just…get how you worked?

There was a knock on the door, heavy and not like the knock from the women of the facility. You knew the sounds of how each gender knock but you didn't want to see or talk to anyone right now. "Go away!" you shouted at the closed door and flipped over on your side, digging your fingers into the sheets. Another knock and you shot up from your bed. Didn't these people know when to leave you alone? Without your command or input, the door opened with a small whoosh. It was Torb-born, who stepped in the room and let the door closed behind him.

You opened your mouth for a moment then closed it as you narrowed your eyes. You expected Winston to run after you and make you apologize to that doctor. But not him. You forgot he was there in the room when the argument broke out. If he was going to tell you to say sorry, he could forget it. You meant what you said back there and you weren't taking it back.

"Weren't expected me to come by, I'm guessing," he stated while he walked closer to your bedside. He didn't seat himself but remained standing.

You drew your knees in close to your chest, wrapped your arm around your legs, and rested your cheek on top. You kept your eyes on the dwarf man, just in case he would do something you didn't approve of. "Why you here?" you had to asked as non-hostile as possible. You had no ill-will with the man but him being here in general was strange. It was like a repeat of that afternoon on the Cliffside.

"Answer me this: do you really want to join Overwatch?" the bearded man asked, stern as always.

Sitting up straight now, you stared the man down. No matter how the question was said, your response would always be the same. "Uh," you replied with a series of nods." Me wanna join Overwatch."

"And you want to show the doctor what you're made of, right?" he asked.

Immediately, you perked up at his question. Of course you wanted that woman what you were made of. You wanted to show the whole world that. "Yes!" you blurted out loud and scrambled to the edge of your bed, closer to Torb-born. "Yes, yes!"

Torb-born smirked through his golden beard and placed his flesh hand on his hip. "If you want to show everyone what you're made of," he explained, "You have to work for it. And it won't be easy, I'll tell you that. Hard work pays off. I'll teach you everything I know," he then extended his hand out to you. "If you're willing to learn."

Your nose twitched when you sniffed his hand several times out of caution. There had to be some catch to it; Rat always told you to be wary of making deals with strangers. But the older man looked at you with intense eyes, waiting for your response. He had never really lied to you as of yet and he wasn't a bad guy. You didn't have much to lose, did you? You took his hand in yours, gave it a firm squeeze, and made eye contact with Torb-born. There was something…interesting in the older man's eyes. Yeah, you could trust him…to some extent. Whatever he had for you, you would take it head first.

Sharp angles. Amber eyes. Bright grin. Loud laughter.

Soft curves. Dark lens. Stitched mask. Deep coughs.

" _Scrappup…" "Morgan…"_

Their voices called your names, so close yet so far away. You saw them in the distance of nothingness, waiting for you side by side to each other. You galloped towards the men, the noise of your hands and feet slapping against the floor echoed through the heavy air slowly. Strangely, you didn't feel like you were getting much closer. It felt like you were getting farther away from them. You opened to call for them but your voice was gone from your throat. Rat and Hog turned their backs to you and began to walk away into the darkness. You barked after them but your voice never reached them and they faded from existence. You tried again to call for them, the two men you so truly loved, but no one came…

Your eyes snapped open. The ceiling overhead was the only thing that greeted you when you woke from your uneasy slumber. It took a few seconds to remember where you were and that Rat and Hog were really gone. Your mind kept thinking and believing that one day you would wake up and Rat and Hog would be by your side again. Wishful thinking, you thought. You did not hate them anymore but you really, really missed them. And you wanted to know why they left you here.

You adverted your gaze from the ceiling to the window. The dull stabbing sensation in your amputated left leg chased away your tiredness and kept it at bay.

The curtains were pulled away and the window was slightly ajar, letting a warm salty breeze float inside the room. Night had overtaken the sky and the waning moon's light just barely lit up the left side of your room. What time was it? You weren't quite sure or cared, in that matter. Several hours had to have passed since you fell asleep. When you were with Rat and Hog, you slept soundlessly through the night without waking. Now with these people, you found yourself waking from a bombardment of dreams. This was a first your leg was giving you any kind of discomfort or pain since your accident. You weren't going back to sleep anytime soon. Loneliness made your heart ache and staying in your room by yourself just made it worse. Yet you decided to stay. You didn't want to be in the company of the other people of the facility. Not yet anyway. They were nice enough but you had your limits.

Without putting your prosthetic on, you slipped out from under your blankets and left the comforting warmth of your bed. You limped your way to the desk by your bed and climbed up into the chair after pulling it from under the desk. A press of a button brought down a beam of yellow light from a brand new table lamp. The sudden change of lighting stung your eyes but it didn't last long as they started to adjust. On the desk was a tablet similar to the one you was Winston had earlier during the questioning. Tiny fingertips grazed the tablet's slick surface and a blue, glowing ring radiated beneath them. Athena's simple image you started getting used to appeared on the screen in a split second.

"Good evening, Morgan," Athena greeted, "Interesting that you activated your personal tablet. May I assist you with something?"

"Can't sleep," you answered as you rested your elbow on the desk and laid your face in the curve of your palm. "Leg hurts and me lonely."

There was a slight pause before the intelligence spoke again. "I calculate there is a ninety percent chance you are suffering from phantom pains. May I suggest we conversate to minimize your pain an sense of loneliness? I may be an artificial intelligence but mere conversations are nothing. Do you have any questions? Perhaps you are confused of the change in environment."

Talking? Yeah, talking would do. You had a few questions in mind to ask. Why not ask a super smart computer for the answers you wanted? "What's Overwatch?" you asked. Though you were told about the group before, you craved to know more.

"Overwatch is an organization founded thirty years ago to put an end to the Omnic Crisis. After the Crisis, Overwatch evolved into a global peacekeeping force and an engine for innovation, making advances in scientific fields ranging from space exploration to medical research," Athena explained, "Overwatch later was shut down by the United Nations." Pictures appeared in the air in front of the tablet, transparent and framed by blue lights.

You saw Winston, Tracy, Torb-born, the doctor, Lionheart, and a bunch of other people you didn't recognized. They all looked happy, smiling big at the camera. Your fingers went to touch one of the pictures only to have them go right through it. You were in Overwatch now, right? Would you take a picture like that, grinning so bright with not a care in the world? Or would it be different? And would you get a black and orange uniform like the grown-ups also? More questions replaced your first question.

"What's the Omnic Crisis?" you then asked.

Athena told you everything you needed to know. Whatever ever the question you had, she answered you with the knowledge of someone with the world's greatest mind. She showed you many pictures and even asked you questions herself. It lasted for hours, until the sun rose over the ocean and your eyelids felt heavier than lead. You laid your head on the desk as Athena continued to talk and you drifted off to sleep. The pain in your leg now long forgotten. 


	7. Settling In

A new day at the Watchpoint meant another day of work for the small members of Overwatch. Angela wasn't safe from work. Medicine did not take a break and neither did she.

Angela woke up early this morning to start her daily routine. A cup of black coffee and a warm danish pastry were her sustenance for breakfast. Nothing to heavy on her stomach this early. It wasn't a full meal but she could cheat a little from time to time. No one was in the mess hall when she entered. It was somewhat too early for the others to be awake, so she took her time gathering her things. She enjoyed the quiet since the last couple of days were filled with such chaos. She had to savor it while it still lasted.

The medical bay was dark. Orange and blue lights from the machines flickered through the darkness. The door opened with a soft swoosh and when the doctor stepped inside the room, its light came on at her movement. Her flats clicked against the tile floor as she walked, taking short strides to her workspace. A long yawn fell from Angela's mouth and she sat down in her chair. She placed her mug and pastry on her desk and stretched her body out to chase the remaining bit of sleep away. Time to get to work, she thought as she took a tiny sip of her hot drink.

"Let's see..." Angela mumbled to herself, starting up her computer and opening her email. Several new mails appeared in her inbox with a blinking dot on each, indicating the mails had attachments. The first email in her inbox, one named Lab Results, was what grabbed the doctor's interest. She knew good people who could process lab tests quickly and, as always, did not let her down. Angela needed to fill the gaps in Morgan's medical documents that Jamison could not provide. And she couldn't just ask Morgan herself.

After downloading the attachments and placing it a designated folder, she opened the document with a tap of her keyboard. Her eyes carefully read every bit of information that was on the screen. From the blood she sent in, Morgan was Type B-Negative. One of the rarer blood types, Angela recalled. White and red blood cell count were on the low side but nothing to be too concerned about. Some biotic pill would sort out the issue in a few days. Slipping the pills in her food and drink would certainly be the best and easiest way to administer them. Then again, Angela disliked withholding information from her patients. It was no different if they were children. She would handle the consequences if something unexpected were to happen.

Morgan's radiation levels were still on the worrisome side. It was considerably lower than it was when she first treated the young girl but it was not at a healthy level for a human. She should have factor the variable of Morgan being born in a place of full of radiation when drawing her blood. It was possible that the radiation could have leeched all the way to her bones. Angela took a pen out from a decorative holder by her monitors and scratched on her notepad: Monitor Morgan's rad level, prescribe biotic pills/ 10mg.

The second email was from New Age Prosthesis, an Oasis based company which created artificial limbs. Angela had put in an order for a new leg for Morgan though she didn't expect such a sudden reply. Your order is in transit, the last sentence of the email read. The good news was welcomed at this time in the morning. Now she had to figure out how to surprise Morgan with the gift. Angela had a playful side to her, she didn't want the child to think she was a stick in the mud all the time. Several ideas came to mind and the doctor scribbled herself another reminder.

When Angela reached the final unread email, something about it was unusual and thought provoking. Its title was left blank, leaving a suspicious 'no subject' closed in brackets. It only had an attachment, and what boggled her was that the mail was sent from Morgan herself. The Watchpoint had its own Entramail system. She didn't know that Winston even set the girl up with an email of her own. Did Morgan even know how to write an email? Angela dismissed the thought. It wasn't too farfetched her to ask Athena for aid. She had to wonder what Morgan wanted to show her that gave her the need to do it via email.

Angela opened the attachment. It was a picture; a drawing, to be exact. 'I'm Sorry' was written in black at the top of the page. A drawing of two figures in the middle of the page depicting the doctor and Morgan together. The rest of the page was colored brightly with a blue sky, yellow sun, and green grass.

A smile crept up on to Angela's face. The gesture of sending her a cute drawing as an apology felt sincerer than words itself. The doctor forgave Morgan minutes after the incident took place. Not like she would hold a grudge against a child. With a click of her mouse, Angela saved the picture to her desktop. It was too cute to get rid of and she added it to other drawing she accumulated over the years from other children.

The dim moonlight of the half-moon from the motel window and the yellow light of a cheap lamp were Junkrat's only company that lonely night. Sleep refused to come every night since they gave Scrappup to Overwatch. The sleep he would get is when he passed out of pure exhaustion. Ugly purple bags had formed under his eyes, his hair lost its volume, and he was much dirtier than usual. Where they treating him right? Was he eating okay? The thoughts battered at his head as he occupied himself with a notepad and pencil, scribbling nonsense upon the paper.

The deep bass snoring of Roadhog rumbled behind his back as his bodyguard slumbered with ease. It bothered Junkrat how easy the pig could just flop on the bed and go into a mini coma like it was nothing. Or was it envy? He couldn't quite think straight at that moment. It was whatever mush of feelings that squished together and created what he was now: a weak and sappy mess of skin and bones.

On the motel table's scratched surface in front of him were pictures. Pictures that he kept with him as mementos right when they left the Wastes and reached civilization. Bittersweet memories, they were.

The tired man halted his writing suddenly, letting his chewed-on stub what was left of a pencil fall from his limp metal hand. In his flesh, he extended a hand without much thought and picked up a picture from the pile. His sighting amber eyes rested on a mugshot. Junkrat stood on the left at full height, tongue out and face twisted to mock the photo taker. Roadhog, in all his large glory, stood to the right like a quiet giant. And in the middle of the frame was Scrappup, grinning wide and eyes half closed.

Junkrat was unable to hide the small smile that appeared on his face. He remembered when they took that picture. The police managed to catch them after a botched heist and snapped their mugshot before the pigs shoved them in a cell. They were out of that shithole thirty minutes later, taking a few of those pigs to an early grave. He had to admit, it was the most fun he had. The light-hearted giggles of Scrappup still rung in his blown-out ears. It was akin to an explosion, sudden and grandiose, but not as loud.

Scrappup, the nickname he himself given the kid, repeated in his head. All the time he spent with that mutt. He was wild, excitable, uncontainable, and imperfect just like he was. His mutt...His kid... Wet warmth began to fall from his eyes and roll down his cheeks to his angular chin.

Tears. He was actually crying. Junkrat didn't make an effort to wipe the tears from his face. It was better for him to ride out the dumb emotion. There was no way he could hide the obvious fact that he missed Scrappup and that he was an awful caretaker. He abandoned someone who needed him the most and yelled like a madman at the kid.

Simple tears soon transformed to full blown quiet wailing into the night. Hot snot ran down from his nose to his upper lip and the tears fell like heavy droplets. His heart ached so much. It was the worse pain he had ever felt in his entire existence. Worse that losing his limbs or getting his tooth ripped out of his skull. Junkrat felt this feeling before, once in the very distant past when he was small. Never did he expect to endure the exact emotion again. Thought it was buried deep under years of a hardened personality. Guess he was wrong about that, as always.

"Jamison..."

Junkrat hadn't noticed the larger man's snoring came to a stop until he spoke his name to his back. He didn't turn around, couldn't let his bodyguard see him in this state of weakness. Somehow, he managed to stifle his crying into sniffles. He rubbed the snot away from gathering in his mouth with his metal hand. The joints pinched at his skin a little but the tiny bit of pain was ignored.

"I-it's a fact that I'm a shit person," Junkrat's voice quivered as he spoke. He turned himself in the chair to face the man on the bed. Roadhog hadn't moved on inch from his original position, keeping his head flat on the pillow. It didn't stop Junkrat from talking. "I can't even raise a kid right without almost killin' him. Yelled at him when he needed me. Threw him away like a piece of junk." He buried his face in his hands. "I'm the worst there is..." He mumbled to himself into his palms.

"Maybe you are," replied Roadhog.

His head snapped up and Junkrat glared at the older man. "Oh, that's real fresh coming from you," he spat out. He then stood to his feet. "Bet you wanna remind me how I blew off his leg! Or how I forced his leg meat in a bandage as he cried and screamed! Or-or..." Junkrat forced his mouth closed, turning his lips white, and squeezed his hands into fists as he held his head down. How dare the fucker agree with his self-loathing.

Roadhog stood before him; a silent observer watching over a building collapse on itself. How he moved that quickly and quietly was a mystery like everything else surrounding the man. Junkrat's emotion released themselves in the form of molten anger and he lashed out. He swung his metal fist forward, not giving any regard to the larger man in front of him. He hoped his punch would land so he could just get rid of it all.

But Roadhog caught his punch with is left hand. Junkrat brought his gaze up to meet those plastic lenses. They looked down on him.

"I'm the worst too," Roadhog broke the silence with his deep voice. "I'm wasn't the pinnacle of guardianship either. Ever thought of that?"

Junkrat averted his gaze off to the side. Fuck, he really didn't think about that. He was all wrapped up in his own feelings to consider Hog's. He never said a word about the subject ever since Scrappup left.

Releasing his hand from his grasp, Roadhog flopped down on the edge of the bed. "We taught her it was fine to kill people. Especially people who ask too many questions or get in her way." There was something in the man's voice, but Junkrat couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He raised his head. "But you and me do it all the time," Junkrat said. "Plus, the feds and suits aren't real people to begin with."

"We're irredeemable, Jamison," Roadhog stated in a stern voice. "Broken beyond repair. Morgan is still fresh and new. She can grow. Change. Adapt. Soon, she will forget about us. It's better this way."

"Maybe...maybe it is..." Junkrat mumbled to himself. It hurt so much. How in the hell would he heal from something like this?

"Does it hurt when I do this?" Angela asked. She held onto Morgan's right arm with utmost care while the child sat on the observation table. The paper covering the leather table crinkled as Morgan shifted her weight. The doctor's delicate finger pressed against Morgan's skin, not too hard but not too soft.

Morgan shook her head.

"Good, good..." The doctor muttered to herself as she recorded the reply. Angela continued with the check-up without another word between them. It was strange, not hearing the usual chatter from Morgan. Her gaze appeared to be distant, slowly blinking and staring off beyond the infirmary. She found it unnerving. It was similar to how she acted when she called Jamison. The quietness was killing her. Someone had to say something to make the tension fade. Angela opened her mouth but was interrupted before a word could escape.

"Me sorry," Morgan's voice came out as a tiny whisper.

Angela peered up from the holo-tablet in her hand to look at the child. She smiled and replied, "I saw the picture you sent me and you are forgiven, Morgan."

"But-but," The child stammered. "Me stomp on your foot! Me be mean to everyone and bite a lot! Me called you Fake Ma! And! And..." Morgan draped her arms over the top of her head and drew her knees in close to her chest, making herself appear smaller. "Why you no hate me?"

"Hate is such a harsh feeling to feel," said the doctor. Done with the tablet, Angela sat it on a small table next to her. "Not that I'm immune to hating things, mind you. Like wrinkles in my clothes or the smell of fish. But you, Morgan? You are someone I just cannot hate."

Morgan slowly relaxed her limbs and stared with her head tilted to the side. "Huh?"

"You're angry, sad, and confused. I understand what it feels to lose someone you love so much," Angela explained. "And I cannot fathom to hate you, especially when you're in a highly emotional state of mind. I only want what is best for you, Morgan. I made that obligation when you came into my care. You're a child with so much to learn."

The child still seemed skeptical. "You sure?" She asked.

"I'm positive," Angela said. "Winston, Lena, Torbjörn, Reinhardt, and I care about you. We couldn't hate you for the feelings you feel. I can't be like your mother but I can have you develop like a healthy child should."

Morgan's little eyes moistened and she rubbed them with her fist. She mumbled, "Stupid lady..."

Angela couldn't help but to giggle to herself. She rather have Morgan calling her names than being so quiet. "But I have to ask," she spoke. Her voice grew a little serious but maintained its lightheartedness.

"Do you really want to participate in Overwatch's activities? What we deal with is no laughing matter. From what I know, combat training is not easy. It will be long and hard."

With an affirmative nod, Morgan answered, "Me wanna help. Torb-born say me be his helper."

Angela managed to put two and two together. Torbjörn was making Morgan is apprentice? Well, it was unlike the man to take apprentices, especially ones outside his family. What was he planning to do with her?

"And Lionheart is gonna make me fight good," Morgan proclaimed. "Tracy too!"

"Lionheart? Oh, you mean Reinhardt," Angela said while she reached over for a little paper cup and a bottle of water then she handed them to Morgan.

"Uh! He like a big lion! Got big mane and roars and everything!" Morgan then took the items in each of her hand on command. Her eyes locked on the golden capsules in the cup. Her face twisted in confusion.

"Candy?" She asked.

"Not candy," Angela corrected. "Medicine. Biotic pills, to be exact. It will make you feel good as new. Now, make sure you swallow them and drink plenty of water. Don't bite into them."

Morgan's nose twitched as she sniffed cautiously. In a quick motion, she threw back the paper cup and swallowed hard. Her nose crinkled and she chugged half of the bottle's contents. She smacked her lips when finished. "Yucky," she commented.

"Medicine isn't supposed to taste good," said Angela. "That's how you know it's working."

His gigantic forge roared as its flames crackled, hungry for fuel. His tools swayed side to side that still remained to be used. Metal begged to formed into something powerful and grand. And a single child sat before him, curious and so new. This is what Torbjörn saw in his workshop. Hidden potential waiting to be unlocked and built up.

The dwarf man paced back and forth in front of Morgan, who sat upon his stool, watching him. He halted in his walk and turned toward her which caused the girl to jump a little. "Tell me," he began and Morgan's body stiffened, gripping the red stool seat tight in her hands. "Do you have the skill to be my apprentice? Can you endure my teachings? Or will you whine and cry at the hard work I have for you?"

"Uh!" Morgan shouted, bouncing and kicking her legs out. "Me handle anything!"

A tiny chuckle came from Torbjörn and he rubbed his beard. "At least those thugs gave you confidence, I'll give you that." Then he crossed his arms and frowned, "But you can't rely on that confidence alone to save your skin. To tell you the truth, you wouldn't last a minute against several Talon agents. Or even one of them. They will tear you apart. You probably will even fail your first mission."

He saw the rage fill Morgan's eyes at his words. She stood at full height on the stool and opened her mouth to spout out a retort. Without warning, her prosthetic leg slipped out from under her and off the seat. Morgan tumbled to the hard floor and the stool fell over with the clatter that echoed through the whole room. When Torbjörn stepped closer to the child, she bared her teeth at him and growled.

"But," he said as he puffed out his chest. "I'm going to teach you the skills you need to know to get you through in the end. And that's all you have when up to your neck in enemies."

Morgan sat upright and looked up at him quietly.

"Now, what is a person's mightiest weapon of all?" asked Torbjörn. "Take a guess. There aren't any wrong answers."

"Teeth? No, no. Nails! Legs? Your head?" the child guessed. It looked like thinking about the answers made her head spin.

"No, no! That's not right!" he yelled. "You're just throwing words at me!" He turned his back to Morgan and rifled through his tools. "A person's mightiest weapon is…" He turned about around with his hammer in his palms. It showed signs of being worn and used but still functioning after all these year. "The hammer. Because a hammer can not only forge weapons and armor, but it can create the strongest men and women."

She scratched the side of her face with her foot then sniffed the hammer. "Hammer makes people?" she questioned. "Hammers can't do that. People aren't metal."

"It's a figure of speech," Torbjörn replied. "I'm saying hammer discipline will make you stronger. Strengthen your mind, body and soul."

In response, Morgan tilted her head to the side. Torbjörn saw the thousand yard stare that appeared on her face. He sighed, this was going to take a while.

"Are you ready for a wonderful sparring match, little one?" Reinhardt's enthusiastic voice echoed off the walls of the room.

Reinhardt and Morgan stood in the middle of a large matted arena within the watchpoint's gym. They had the whole place to themselves for the time being. The gym had everything one needed to exercise and keep in top shape. Weights, treadmills, sandbags, and other various equipment filled the wide room. But Reinhardt wasn't letting Morgan use any of those. Not today, at least, and not without a spotter to ensure her safety. Today, the older man planned something for her.

"Now, this little battle isn't too serious," Reinhardt explained. He picked up a foam training bat and matching shield, looking down at child on the other side of the arena. "I would like to get a measure on the way you handle yourself in combat."

Morgan looked at the fist guards he fitted on her hands and sniffed them. Even though they haven't started, Reinhardt was already beaming with pride. A child her age wanting to prove herself as a hero? It was unheard of, unprecedented even. And Reinhardt was given the privilege to teach her all her knew in the ways of combat. He felt giddier than a kid in a candy store. But now wasn't the time to bask in his thoughts. It was time for action!

"I want you to try your hardest to defeat me," Reinhardt said. "Any way you know how to fight, I want you to use that on me. Now," he bashed his bat against the shield attached to his forearm. His feet planted themselves on the mat and he readied his stance. He yelled, "Bring it on!"

Dropping to her hands and feet, Morgan darted forward and threw herself at the man. Reinhardt raised his shield but instead of bouncing off, the child clung to it. Her little fingers curled around the shield's edge tight. He flung his shield in a wide outward motion but Morgan still held on. She batted her right fist against Reinhardt's cheekbone, just below his scar. The series of gentle baps were adorable with no power behind them to actually hurt him. It made him think what it would feel like if she didn't hold back or had a proper weapon.

Reinhardt swung his shield sideways and downwards. The force alone caused Morgan to finally lose her grip and fall off. Her back hit the mat which she recovered quick by rolling back on her hands and feet. She held her body low to the floor and, waiting for his next move.

"Ha!" Reinhardt yelled, swinging his bat vertically.

Morgan jumped back and the bat smacked loud against the mat's hard plastic. She darted in between and around his legs like an energetic little bunny rabbit, batting at his calves with each pass. Each time Reinhardt would turn to attack, she was already on his opposite side. She was too fast for him. He had to either slow her down or catch her off guard.

He swung his weapon horizontally in a low sweep. The child did not see the change in swings coming and she was hit directly in the abdomen. The heavy blow didn't knock Morgan off her feet as he wanted. Her feet dug into the mat and she wrapped her arms around the bat, grinning wide at him. No matter how many times he swung is weapon, Morgan was glued on firmly. Reinhardt was beginning to lose his steam. Morgan was cleverer than she appeared. Her little punches were weak so she resorted to wearing down her opponent until they were exhausted.

Reinhardt couldn't let the little one have the upper hand on him. He swung his bat in a powerful upward arc with a burst of energy. Morgan went flying in the air and Reinhardt feared he use too much of his strength behind the swing. As soon as Morgan touched down on her hands and feet, her prosthetic gave out. The child fell to her side as her leg completely shattered into metal, tire rubber, and cord. Quietness filled the room in an instant.

"Oh dear…" Reinhardt could only whisper to himself.

The joy and boundless energy had faded from Morgan's eyes as she laid on the mat motionless. She just stared at the pile scrap, quiet and still. The training gear was discarded and Reinhardt made his way to Morgan. Training wasn't as important as the well being of a child. He tucked his hands underneath her body and lifter her up gently in his arms. Trembles rocked Morgan's body as she grasped onto the man's shirt. She didn't make eye contact with him.

"There, there," Reinhardt said, patting Morgan on the back. "I think it would be best if we stop our training for today. You did wonderfully, little one." His voice was always loud and booming. It turned head and made others smile. But now? Now his usual voice was not appropriate at that time. Inside voices, quiet and calm.

"Useless," Morgan mumbled into his chest. "Me so useless now."

Raising Morgan's face up slightly by her chin, Reinhardt said, "Don't measure your value by the number of limbs you possess. You can do so many things if you put your mind to it, no matter the limbs you're missing. Don't give up so easily."

Morgen didn't say another word. Her eyes just stared up at him, as if searching for something. Whatever she was looking for, Reinhardt hoped it would bring her into better spirits.

Small puffs of white smoke rose from the heated tip of the soldering iron Winston held firm between two fingers. His eyebrows knitted in concentration as he welded wires down to circuit boards with utmost care. Parts of a helmet shaped like a canine's head laid in a neat pile, waiting for assembly. Torbjörn gave him the parts earlier in the day for adding specific modifications to it. Winston almost had a shopping list worth of software and hardware the engineer wanted. Nothing he couldn't handle.

It was a given to have Athena programmed into helmet. Morgan wouldn't have a single clue what to do if she found any kind of intelligence. Having Athena with her in the future made Winston relax a little. He could always rely on her. Her AI would be the mainframe of the helmet's functions, acting like a wireless hard drive. The helmet's memory would be able to hold a limited amount of data without dumping.

The thought of a child under the age of ten conducting espionage activities so farfetched. He wondered what was going on through Torbjörn's head when he came up with that idea. Was he getting ahead of himself and biting off more than he could chew? Would Morgan rise to the occasion and keep calm under pressure? His anxiousness was put on the back burner; he had a job to do.

Winston studied his list thoroughly. Sensors in the nose and ears of the helmet; the small note said. So having the helmet in the shape of a dog wasn't just for show or aesthetic. Amplified hearing and smell would benefit the wearer but it could possibly have negative effects when powerful sound technology came to play. It would take him a while to get it humanly safe; interdisciplinary science wasn't his forté. Science was a job of failed tests and experiments, as WInston knew so well by working on his Barrier Generator.

Infrared vision was next on the list. Simple enough to do, Winston thought. The hallow sockets of the helmet stared at him as its white eye fixtures rested on the table close by. Taking a pen flashlight between his teeth, Winston carefully inserted tiny circuit boards in the sockets using tweezers that were comically small in his huge hands. He took the liberty to include ultraviolet sensors along with the infrared. Wouldn't do much good if it only had infrared on its own.

He then fitted the fixtures over the sockets, which stuck in quick. The helmet did not have its own power source just yet so connecting it to a battery would suffice. The helmet powered on as electricity coursed in its wires which made its eyes glowed white. Winston smiled. It was good to have a success on the first try. Good to know that none of the wiring was misplaced.

"Winston,"

The scientist raised his head and saw Morgan close by his side. She wasn't there when he started tinkering with her helmet. How did she get here so silently? It seemed she like visiting him while he was working. "Hello Morgan," Winston greeted. "Done with Torbjörn and Reinhardt for today?"

The child nodded her head. "Uh, but me leg broke." She lifted what was remained of her left leg in the air and gave it a wiggle.

Winston frowned, "I'm sorry to hear about your leg, Morgan. I hope you're not having any trouble getting around the facility without your prosthesis."

Morgan didn't respond to his comment. Instead, she asked a question. "Who will make me new leg? Rat make me old leg."

"Well," Winston said as he disconnected the helmet from the battery. "There are people in the world whose jobs is to make new limbs for others just like you. They will make sure your new leg will last a very long time and fits perfectly to you."

Morgan squirmed in place at his words. She then pointed a finger at the helmet on the table. "What's that?" she asked.

"It's just a little side project I'm working on." Winston replied. He assumed Torbjörn didn't want Morgan knowing about the combat helmet. He would keep the whole truth from her for the time being. "I should be finish by later this evening."

She watched him work for a moment but soon the girl disappeared from his sight. He was about to worry until he felt a weight clinging to the back of his shirt. Her tiny fingers and the heel of her single foot dug into him as climbed up the length of his back, as if the action was normal in itself. She pulled herself up and draped her torso over his right shoulder. Winston smiled and continued with his work. He did not mind her being there, it didn't bother him.

"What's that?" she pointed a finger down at the table. Her finger pointed at the silver magnifying lamp he was using on the smaller bits of hardware.

Winston answered eagerly, "It's a magnifying lamp. I use it to see tiny objects close up." His hand gripped the top of the lamp and brought it closer to the child.

Morgan's hands pressed against his chest and she lifted her upper body at a 45 degree angle. A series of curious coos came from her when she peered through the glass, tilting her head side to side. She pushed it back in place when she deemed done with it. Her hands slid down Winston and she returned to her neutral position.

"What's that?" Morgan repeated and pointed a finger down at the table again.

Winston explained everything on the table that the child pointed towards. He didn't mind to do so until she felt satisfied with the answers she received. The room around the pair grew quiet as their conversation died down and the only noise was the sound of the soldering iron sparking here and there. The quietness was something Winston became accustomed to over the years but sharing it with another person was different. Even if the person was just a child, the company felt good. He hoped Morgan will visit him more in the future.

Quiet noises sounded off up in his office above the silent couple. On one of the many computers which covered the tabletop, a picture of the world map displayed on a single screen. There was a series of beeps, causing the border of the monitor screen to flash orange. A circle shaped target focused on the continent of Asia for a moment then zoomed in on China, coming to a stop on the city of Lijiang. Watchpoint Reinstated; Large white text scrolled across the bottom on an endless loop.


End file.
